Hogwarts Mareschal
by Lore or mess
Summary: Djemn wanted to scoff. Hogwarts had been completely terrorized by a mere vengeful specter? The world of magic was freakin' unbelievable!" Story starts in year two of Hogwarts. OC Centric, definitely not a MarySue. It gets better towards the end.
1. 1: A Djemn of a Meeting

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 1 – A Djemn of a Meeting**.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You are being accepted at Hogwarts, Miss Helesande." Professor McGonagall replied, her tone monotonous and slightly annoyed at having to repeat herself.

"You mentioned a school of witchcraft and wizardry?"

"That I did. Perhaps it is difficult for you to believe in magic at the immediate moment, but I assure you, it is very much real."

The young girl in front of her merely looked at the professor calmly. Her gaze was nothing of suspicion or scorn; it was just plain looking, as if the two were having the most normal conversation in the entire world. A conversation that didn't involve magic, wizards and an obscure magical school somewhere in Scotland.

"I see." At this, the girl took out a small device that closely resembled a mobile phone out of her dress pocket. She pressed two buttons then put the device away, sitting ever so serenely in her armchair. From her posture, the professor concluded that she was waiting for something. Assuming the girl had just paged – is that how the muggles call it? – her parents, Professor McGonagall sat back in her own armchair and waited for the girl's parents to arrive.

Not a minute later, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and eyes entered the room. He was wearing a black suit and had a very proper, neat, yet daunting look about him. As soon as he opened the door, his eyes did a very quick scan of the room, finally coming to rest on the professor. Not unlike the girl, there was no expression on his face. Professor McGonagall, however, felt that this man was not the girl's father or brother.

"Hadrian, please escort this lady off the manor grounds. Our business is done."

Professor McGonagall sat frozen for a moment before turning her head sharply to stare at the girl. She was doing nothing more than sitting comfortably in her armchair, completely not bothered at all at what had happened during the last five minutes. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. Minerva McGonagall was no weak-minded person and she knew exactly what this girl was doing; _she was throwing her out!_

"Miss Helesande, I am aware that this is quite a big shock to you and that what I have revealed is highly unbelievable but believe me when I say that what I speak of is true. You are a muggle-born witch and Hogwarts is offering you a place to study magic. I can arrange it so that you be given some books to familiarize yourself with our world before you attend."

"Yes, of course. If you would follow Hadrian, he will escort you out."

Professor McGonagall stared in disbelief at the –supposed- 12 year old in front of her. The girl was carrying herself with the practiced ease of an adult aristocrat, not a soon-to-be teenager. Said girl was now looking at her with a polite smile, as if bidding goodbye to an amicable acquaintance. Her courteous face betrayed nothing of what she was doing; dismissing everything Minerva had said and then throwing the professor off the grounds.

Minerva's lips thinned. She wouldn't stand for this. She went through too much trouble to come here and meet the girl only to be regarded as a lunatic and be thrown out.

**1 HOUR AGO**

Professor Minerva McGonagall straightened her dark green dress. In her mind, she sighed in resignation. The school had discovered that a child had been a year late to inherit her magical powers. Naturally, someone was needed to meet her and explain her heritage to her. Plus, there were other issues that couldn't be explained through the customary Hogwarts letter of acceptance.

At first, Headmaster Dumbledore had wanted to send Hagrid but Professor McGonagall had strongly advised against it. The poor muggles would be too frightened of the gigantic man to even think properly, let alone consider letting their child attend a magical school. Of course, that left Professor Snape, who was staying at Hogwarts grounds this summer, and her, herself. No need to ponder on who was best to be sent on this little missive.

Minerva checked herself again before stepping closer to the manor gates. She had done a short over viewing of this new student and was quite interested at what she saw. Djemn Helesande was the only child of Jean-Roy and Cezelia Helesande. The family was from an aristocratic muggle line dating back to the early 1800s. None of the family had ever shown signs of magical potential until now. Djemn was currently studying at Saint Bastian Private Academy where her father is one of the founders and board directors. What truly peaked Minerva's interest though was not the child's family or background. It was her school records. What seemed to be a spoilt girl from another rich family was shadowed by her shocking records of skipping 2 years during her time at St.Bastian. Granted, it could very well be her father pulling some strings behind the scenes, but if there's one thing that Minerva understood about nobles and aristocrats, it is that they are proud and arrogant. Mr.Helesande would not put his daughter in a position where she may embarrass herself or the family. Therefore, it is only logical that the child had skipped the 2 years on her own efforts.

Professor McGonagall stood before the gates in contemplation. Through the elaborate metal grill, she could see a long walkway leading up to the manor. There were neatly cut bushes sprouting dark green maple-like leaves on either side. The manor itself was brick red with huge panes of glass as windows. While it itself was not a thing of great splendor or marvel, the sight of the bare yet elegant manor was soothing to the eyes and emitted a sense of homeliness.

A guard approached Professor McGonagall from the inside and greeted her. He was dressed smartly with a crisp white shirt under a black coat and matching black pants. The man looked to be in his late forties and had a pleasant face.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. What brings you to Helesande Manor?"

"I wish to speak to Miss Djemn Helesande concerning her schooling."

The guard paused for a moment, in thought.

"There was no mention of Miss Djemn expecting a visitor today."

"I'm afraid my visit was unplanned."

"Then I cannot allow you entry."

Try as she might, Professor McGonagall could not make the guard budge in his decision to keep the gates locked. It went on for at least a half hour before Minerva got fed up and used a compulsion charm to make the guard let her in. Once inside the manor, past the gate, walkway and huge front doors, the first thing Minerva noticed was the silence. It was so quiet inside that she could hear her own breathing. Nothing moved. There was no soft laughter, no talking, not even the wind as all the windows were made permanently shut. It made the hairs in the back of her neck stand but she brushed it off as her own unease and walked further into the house.

Another half hour later, Professor McGonagall was deeply in need of a cheering charm. She had walked and walked and walked only to find no one in the huge manor. Of course, said manor had seemed small at the beginning when she was standing at the gates but now that she was inside, she realized just how large a muggle manor can be, even _without_ enlargement charms.

Professor McGonagall turned a corner and nearly got a start when she finally saw another living being. It was a young maid who was arranging some flowers into a yellow vase. When the young girl turned and saw the professor, she got as big a shock as Minerva did at seeing her.

"Hello. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am here to see Miss Djemn Helesande. Would you be so kind as to lead me to her?" She was taking no more chances at getting lost in the silent manor.

"I-…. Of course, Ma'am. Right this way." The young maid was still a bit shaken as she led the professor through the maze of hallways to stop in front of a set of double doors made of mahogany wood. At first glance, Minerva could tell that these doors were very thick. Without knocking, the maid opened one of the doors and stepped back to allow Minerva entry.

The moment the door opened, the manor's silence was shattered by vivid, resounding tunes of violin. Professor McGonagall stepped into the room and saw that it was one made specifically for music. The walls were padded and no doubt made to be sound-proof as no sound had escaped the room before the door was opened. There were various kinds of musical instruments placed around the room and in the centre of it all stood a girl. She was wearing a very proper black dress and her eyes were closed in appreciation of the music she was creating. Her hands moved expertly, playing the violin with such ease that Minerva was led to doubt the small girl's age.

She was playing Lake in the Moonlight from the Swan Lake suite by Tchaikovsky. The strong notes rang into Minerva's soul and if she searched hard enough, there was indeed some magic laced within the music. Half a minute later, the girl finished playing and turned to face her. She seemed not at all surprised to see another person in the room with her. When she didn't say anything, Professor McGonagall introduced herself.

"Hello. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. Miss Helesande, I have come to give you news concerning your acceptance at my school."

The girl paused for a moment then smiled politely and gestured for the professor to take a seat in one of the armchairs available. It would seem that Djemn has frequent audience in this room if the sheer number of armchairs, recliners and loveseats were anything to go by. While the professor made herself comfortable, Djemn went to replace her violin into its case on one of the display tables near the door. Then, she asked that the young maid earlier prepare some tea for them before sitting down to speak to the professor.

"I must apologize for my lack of preparation. I did not know that I would be expecting a visitor today. It must have slipped my father's mind to inform me." The polite words coming from a girl so young gave Minerva a bit of a surprise. Of course, she shouldn't have expected less from a girl raised in a family of standing, even if they are muggles.

"It is no fault of your father. He is not aware of my visit as it is unplanned." Realizing that if she didn't explain everything soon there would be many questions asked, she hurried to explain her purpose there.

"Miss Helesande, I am a professor at a magical school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We have discovered that you are a muggle-born witch with potential to learn and use magic. As so, Hogwarts will accept you as a student and teach you the ways of magic."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You are being accepted at Hogwarts, Miss Helesande." Professor McGonagall replied, her tone monotonous and slightly annoyed at having to repeat herself.

"You mentioned a school of witchcraft and wizardry?"

"That I did. Perhaps it is difficult for you to believe in magic at the immediate moment, but I assure you, it is very much real."

The young girl in front of her merely looked at the professor calmly. Her gaze was nothing of suspicion or scorn; it was just plain looking, as if the two were having the most normal conversation in the entire world. A conversation that didn't involve magic, wizards and an obscure magical school somewhere in Scotland.

"I see." At this, the girl took out a small device that closely resembled a mobile phone out of her dress pocket. She pressed two buttons then put the device away, sitting ever so serenely in her armchair. From her posture, the professor concluded that she was waiting for something. Assuming the girl had just paged – is that how the muggles call it? – her parents, Professor McGonagall sat back in her own armchair and waited for the girl's parents to arrive.

Not a minute later, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and eyes entered the room. He was wearing a black suit and had a very proper, neat, yet daunting look about him. As soon as he opened the door, his eyes did a very quick scan of the room, finally coming to rest on the professor. Not unlike the girl, there was no expression on his face. Professor McGonagall, however, felt that this man was not the girl's father or brother.

"Hadrian, please escort this lady off the manor grounds. Our business is done."

Professor McGonagall sat frozen for a moment before turning her head sharply to stare at the girl. She was doing nothing more than sitting comfortably in her armchair, completely not bothered at all at what had happened during the last five minutes. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. Minerva McGonagall was no weak-minded person and she knew exactly what this girl was doing; _she was throwing her out!_

"Miss Helesande, I am aware that this is quite a big shock to you and that what I have revealed is highly unbelievable but believe me when I say that what I speak of is true. You are a muggle-born witch and Hogwarts is offering you a place to study magic. I can arrange it so that you be given some books to familiarize yourself with our world before you attend."

"Yes, of course. If you would follow Hadrian, he will escort you out."

Professor McGonagall stared in disbelief at the -supposed- 12 year old in front of her. The girl was carrying herself with the practiced ease of an adult aristocrat, not a soon-to-be teenager. Said girl was now looking at her with a polite smile, as if bidding goodbye to an amicable acquaintance. Her courteous face betrayed nothing of what she was doing; dismissing everything Minerva had said and then throwing the professor off the grounds.

Minerva's lips thinned. She wouldn't stand for this. She went through too much trouble to come here and meet the girl only to be regarded as a lunatic and be thrown out.

"Perhaps I can convince you."

That said, Minerva took her wand and flicked it at the slightly ajar door. Said door slammed shut with a soft 'thum' and stayed shut. Both Djemn and the man were now staring at the door, their expressions unreadable. Then, slowly, Djemn turned to face the professor. Nothing was said for several moments and Minerva decided that perhaps she needed another example. Muttering a soft incantation under her breath, she levitated a violin case over to Djemn, the very same one she had placed her violin in earlier. The case landed gently on the girl's lap and Minerva put away her wand, convinced that now they can no longer dismiss her without acknowledging her magic.

Djemn ran her fingers over the velvet case of her violin. There were no strings attached to it. And there was certainly nothing inside besides her violin; she had made sure of that when she replaced her violin earlier. She raised her eyes to that of the professor's but still she said nothing. What was she to say?

"Perhaps I should return at this time the day after tomorrow?"

Djemn understood that that meant the professor was giving her time to consider everything. And she did need time.

"Yes…. Yes, I shall be expecting you."

Minerva nodded once and rose to leave. The man, Hadrian, who by now Minerva had deducted was a bodyguard, led her back through the manor. Now that her mission was half done and that the silence no longer disturbed her, she took her time to enjoy the interiors of Helesande Manor. The walls were mostly done in deep reds and browns and many of the furniture were made of wood. The designs were distinctly classical English style. She didn't notice before, while she was busy searching for signs of life, but there was a large number of paintings in the manor. Many were Renaissance themed oil paintings and a handful were captured sceneries of the English countryside.

When they reached the gates, Minerva noticed the displeased face of the guard. He was probably wondering why he let her in in the first place. Well, she could just imagine his face when he's told to allow her entrance the day after tomorrow.

Back in the music room, Djemn absently stroked the soft velvet on her lap. Her mind was reeling from the bizarre experience. It seemed simply impossible. But it did happen. She needed to know what to think. What to do.

Sitting back in her chair, she made herself relax and entered what she called Perspicacity. It was in her mind. Where she discussed and thought about everything that needed to be. Perspicacity was a round room made of stone. There was no source of light in sight but the room was lit by soft indirect light that gave just enough to see. The ceiling was a smooth dome. Stone benches surrounded the room, one higher than the other. There were no doors and no windows. No exit and no entrance; just a complete circle of stone benches. In the middle, there was an arena. At the centre of the arena, a stone table rose from the ground. It was small and stood at about a meter high. There was a grey folder on it, seemingly closed and empty. Slowly, the folder flipped open and the discussion began. A carbon copy of herself materialized from thin air and began to speak.

LOGIC: It is impossible. It is illogical. It defies the laws of physics. Magic does not exist.

As if on cue, another Djemn appeared and spoke.

REASON: But we have seen it. How do we explain the violin floating to us from halfway across the room? We know there were no mechanisms in the case that would allow this to happen. How do we explain the logic in that?

LOGIC: We cannot. However, magic does not exist.

As the two spoke on, more and more 'Djemn's started appearing.

EXPERIENCE: We have experience of things happening that may have had the influence of magic. Such is the time when we won St.Bastian's bi-annual draw three times successively.

LOGIC: That is mere coincidence. It can be explained though a series of equations.

REASON: But this is not. We saw it with our own eyes. The impossible made real.

WISDOM: Calm! We must see logic in everything that we do but as we have witnessed something that we cannot explain, then we must listen to reason.

REASON: Should there be no magic in existence, then what we have witnessed is untrue. But it is true as we have seen it and felt it. It is only reasonable to conclude that magic is indeed real.

As the discussion went on, words began to appear in the air above the folder. Every word uttered was formed in silvery blue for all to see. No matter from which end of the room one looked, it was as if the screen of words rotated to follow one's sight. Each new sentence was formed above the old and the list got longer and longer. Once the sentence was low enough to reach the folder, it shrank and disappeared into the grey folder. That way, the newest sentences always remained on top.

WISDOM: Then we shall believe in magic.

BELIEF: We find it very hard to do that.

WISDOM: We have very few beliefs. One more will do more good than harm. For now, we shall believe in magic until we have more reason to discuss further.

REASON: Then we shall agree on this and speak with Father after dinner tonight.

Subsequently, all the 'Djemn's disappeared and the remaining words floating in mid air all shrank into the grey folder. Then, said folder closed and the room's light dimmed till there was no more. Djemn opened her eyes. Discussion over.

**Author's Notes:** Well, I don't know if this is any good but I can say I tried. Are the descriptions too long or too meaningless? If so, please tell me so that I may do better in later chapters. Any other opinions or thoughts are welcome. If you really must flame me for my lousy writing skills, I'll put them to good use heating up Djemn's reptile house. For questions, I'd advise against e-mailing me as I seldom check my account, just ask them in the reviews. And updates will be probably go from walk to crawl to almost never as my exams are err… next week stretching till mid-December. One more thing, just to put everyone's mind at ease: THIS IS NOT A MARY SUE. Djemn is not going to fall in love and neither will the guys her.

I want to explain some things that you may ask about this chapter. First of all, some of you may ask why didn't Professor McGonagall just apparate into the manor thereby avoiding the hustle with the guard. It is simply because it is _impolite._ Yes, it is downright rude to intrude into another's home especially if said person is unfamiliar with you. Another thing is that the professor has the risk of getting the wrong house as she's never been on Helesande property before and has never met the Helesande family. Furthermore, if she does get the wrong house, she risks exposing the wizarding world to the muggles therefore making apparition a not-very-safe option.

Perhaps I should make it clear that Djemn is in no way aware of magic. 'Perspicacity' is a room that she made in her mind when she needs deep consideration concerning something. Yes, it is a form of Occlumency of sorts but Djemn only knows it as Perspicacity or 'the room in her mind'. And the young maid mentioned in the chapter was shaken to see Professor McGonagall because it is not custom to have guests at Helesande Manor. Now, I really must shut up or there'll be no point in writing the story as I've already blabbed everything out. Have a nice day, everyone.

Mareschal – Middle English via Old French version of 'Marshall', a high-ranking officer of the armed forces.

Djemn – Pronounced as 'jem'.


	2. 2: The World is a Small Place

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Neither do I own Niles. I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 2 – The World is a Small Place.**

The tension in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife and served like cheesecake. And it wasn't helping that the only sound heard was the antique grandfather clock from across the room. Professor McGonagall tried not to feel uncomfortable under Jean-Roy Helesande's steely gaze. Normally, she wouldn't. But neither father, mother nor daughter had said anything for the past ten minutes and it was beginning to eat at Minerva's nerves. Just how long does it take to think?

Professor McGonagall had returned the day after tomorrow as promised and was led to a sitting room by a person who seemed to be a butler. There, she met the Helesande family, though words were only exchanged between Mrs.Helesande and her; Djemn and Mr.Helesande merely observed the greetings. Then, Minerva had explained the purpose of her visit again, this time to Djemn's father.

"Of course, Miss Helesande came to her magical inheritance a year later than the other students, therefore she will not be placed according to her age."

Mr.Helesande had nodded and went into thought. And ten minutes later, Minerva was still waiting for a response. Any response. Finally, he turned towards his daughter who had not spoken at all up till now, and asked

"Djemn, do you have anything to say?"

"If magic does exist, I would want to learn more about it. However, there are certain negative aspects should I accept this invitation: I would not be able to finish my time at St.Bastian."

"You have not much need for it." Here, Mr.Helesande paused a moment and turned to face Professor McGonagall. "Is Hogwarts a boarding school?"

Minerva gave an affirmative answer and a meaningful glance passed between the three muggles.

"Do you still wish to attend Hogwarts, Djemn?"

A pause, then "Yes."

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

After the acceptance, Professor McGonagall had explained almost everything she can regarding the wizarding world. In fact, it felt more like an interrogation than an explanation. Question after question was fired at her. What are wizarding folk like? What are Hogwarts policies? How are the politics in the magical community? How tight is Hogwarts security? How advanced is magical medicine? Are magical creatures controlled or do they run rampant? And so on and so forth…. Minerva thought she'd never leave the manor. By the time they were done, it was dinner time. They'd invited her but she had declined for she didn't think she could stay in their presence any longer. She'd go mad. And to think she still had to return to take Djemn shopping for her school supplies. All she wanted now was a hot cup of tea and a good night's sleep.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Professor McGonagall walked to the back lane of the Leaky Cauldron that led to Diagon Alley and tapped the correct bricks. The wall shifted away. All at once, loud noises leaked into the small lane. She turned around to address her charge.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Hadrian had an interested look on his face while Djemn just stayed impassive. Minerva turned and led them through the crowd. She walked at a slow pace, allowing her charge to adjust to the sudden change in her environment. When she went to Helesande Manor to take Djemn shopping this morning, she had been surprised that Hadrian had followed instead of Mr.Helesande. Normally, during their first visit, muggle-borns would go to Diagon Alley with their parents, not _bodyguards_. This led Minerva to ponder about their father-daughter relationship. But she quickly told herself to be grateful. If it _had_ been Mr.Helesande that followed them today, she didn't think she could quite keep her smile and temper in check. That man was just too trying. He reminded her of Lucius Malfoy somehow. Not in the you-are-a-bug-and-I'm-going-to-squish-you way but more in the I-really-don't-care-what-you-do-go-ahead-and-die way. There was something about his gaze that just unsettled her.

The first place they went was Gringotts to exchange muggle currency to wizarding. There, Hadrian did all the talking with one of the goblins. From what Minerva could understand, Mr.Helesande had asked for an account to be made specifically for Djemn's magical schooling and expenditure. Then, to make things easier during purchases, Hadrian used one of Gringotts options and arranged for the money to be accessible through a card. Minerva understood that the muggles had a system similar to this one called the credit card. What puzzled her was the ease Hadrian had when obtaining the card; usually the account involved had to be above a certain value to allow this option. Just how much money did Mr.Helesande put in his daughter's account?

Their second stop was Flourish and Blotts. Professor McGonagall told the shop assistant of the year and school Djemn would be attending and let her gather the books needed. Meanwhile, Djemn was browsing from aisle to aisle, Hadrian hovering behind her dutifully. This caused Minerva to ponder again. Why the need for a bodyguard? Sure, the Helesandes were rich but it still seemed a bit overdoing it to have someone guard their child in and out of the house. Was there another reason besides the obvious chaperoning? Dismissing it as none of her business, they paid for their purchases and left to go to the next shop.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn slid on the robe that she bought two days ago. It was a casual dark green one with some light silver stitching on the edge of her sleeves. She quite liked this one, among the many others. They had spent nearly an hour in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions just to get her fitted for all her robes. It wasn't that she wanted fancy robes but she needed the many winter cloaks and thick custom-made robes if she were to attend Hogwarts, what with her condition….

Djemn snapped out of her reverie and put on all her necessities before stepping out of her room. She and Hadrian were returning to Diagon Alley today. During their last trip, she didn't show any particular interest in anything as Professor McGonagall was present. That woman was too observant. It wouldn't do for her to suspect anything wrong or have strange thoughts about Djemn even before the start of school. Therefore, the purpose of today's trip was for her to look at and buy all the things that she might want or need at Hogwarts.

They took the Knight Bus just as they did the last time and gave the right combination of taps on the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley. Their wands are really the wizards' biggest weakness, Djemn noted. Without it, they wouldn't even have access to the Knight Bus or Diagon Alley. Djemn can only imagine what it'll be like if one of them lost their wand. She herself was not excessively fond of hers. It was only a tool after all. But she understood the need for it and will keep it as it should.

Their first stop this time was to get Djemn a second trunk. The first one was 'too small' as both Djemn and her father put it. She remarked that it definitely wouldn't do if her plans were to be put into action. Nonetheless, it will be used at Helesande Manor to store the things that she will not be bringing to Hogwarts.

They browsed through the store slowly, noting certain features that caught their eye. In the end, they bought one that had five compartments. After the trunk had been keyed to recognize only Djemn, the owner of the store explained the rest of the features. Each compartment opened with a different thought by Djemn. The first two led inwards to large rooms for storage. The other three were of normal depth but the third was for highly volatile and explosive objects, the fourth was padded for breakable items and the last one was normal. The trunk was also charmed to be weightless and damage-resistant.

After that, they entered the apothecary and left with the second trunk compartment almost full of potion ingredients that Djemn may be using during her years at Hogwarts. Their next stop was supposed to be Flourish and Blotts but Djemn noticed an alleyway that Professor McGonagall had not led them during their first visit. This particular alleyway was somewhat dark and looked like a shady place. Not that it mattered to Djemn. She spoke to Hadrian and the two steered from their path to enter the alleyway that Djemn now knew was called Knockturn Alley.

There were not that many shops available here but the few that were certainly seem interesting what with giant spiders and poisonous candles on sale. The largest store in this alley was called Borgin and Burkes. Feeling that this was as good as any place to start, Djemn and Hadrian were about to enter the shop when a scrawny boy with black hair and green eyes almost ran into them while exiting. He was holding onto shattered glasses; which would explain why he almost ran into the six foot tall Hadrian.

"I would advise you to watch where you're going, young man." said Hadrian in a stern tone.

The boy stuttered an apology and quickly moved away, all the while flattening his fringe. As he stepped into the alley, he seemed to be a bit lost as to where he should go and what he should do. Djemn merely spared him a glance before entering the shop. It was not _her_ problem if _he_ was lost.

Inside the shop was an assortment of items, from human bones to blood stained cards. This, Djemn thought, was interesting. She walked slowly, enjoying the sight of every strange item her eyes caught. A few moments after their entry, a stooping man appeared behind the counter. His eyes took in the muggle attire on Hadrian and the expensive silk robes on Djemn. Then, with an oily voice that would suit his rather greasy hair, he greeted them both.

"What can I do for you?" There was disdain laced in his voice and a light sneer on his face. Djemn heard it and she was sure Hadrian heard it too.

"My charge would like to look around your shop."

At this, the man's attitude changed dramatically. He came from behind the counter and offered his assistance. Hadrian discreetly stepped between Djemn and the man who had introduced himself as Mark Borgin. While Hadrian and Borgin fought a light verbal battle, Djemn continued to browse through the shop. Her eyes came to rest upon some masks hanging from a wall.

"What is the purpose of those masks?"

"Ah! The young lady has good eyes! Those masks have various effects on the people who wear them." Borgin side stepped Hadrian and went to retrieve some of the masks from the wall. Djemn noticed that he only touched the masks with a pair of very ugly looking purple gloves. "Such as this one. It stays on the wearer until he suffocates from lack of air and this one will turn its wearer blind and mute while this one……"

Djemn drowned out the stooping man's voice as she continued to look around. Her interest was caught again by one of the masks hidden in a tight corner. It was a single pale cream colour with not one decoration on it. There were four holes: two for eyes, one for the nose and one more for the mouth. All in all, it seemed like a piece of plastic or a half-done mask usually sold during fairs.

"What of that one?" said Djemn, pointing at said mask.

"Now, that one. That one is used for espionage. It's made to change the wearer's face into any face the wearer wants. Very handy. Glamour detection spells will not be able to detect it and only the wearer can take it off. Until death that is." Here, Borgin smiled a nasty, intimidating smile at Djemn but Djemn wasn't bothered.

"Can you show me?"

Borgin froze for a moment then haltingly took the mask down. He looked from the mask to Djemn and back to the mask again. He had never used this item before and whether or not there'd be side effects were unknown to him. Taking a deep breath, he put the mask on and imagined a face. Djemn saw Borgin's face disappear behind the mask which then distorted and twisted to form a new face. Soon, a seemingly handsome man with wavy brown hair and blue eyes stared back at them. He smiled and two rows of perfectly white teeth sparkled. Djemn immediately felt dislike towards this face, even if the last one was no better. Hearing no objections, Borgin took off the mask.

"Well? Is there anything that interests you?"

Ten minutes later, Djemn and Hadrian emerged from Borgin and Burkes a few galleons poorer. They had bought whatever Djemn had liked and thought useful which, in truth, weren't many. Some of the things sold, while interesting, were rather pointless in Djemn's point of view. Personally, Hadrian thought they were all useless, worthless or broken. In other words, junk.

They had made a few more stops in various shops in which Djemn bought a collection of poisons, a large number of books, more potion ingredients, and some rather neat knick-knacks that may come in handy someday. Then, they returned to Diagon Alley so that they may finally pay patronage to Flourish and Blotts. What they didn't expect was the large crowd gathered there.

Djemn didn't remember seeing so many people the last time she was there. Curiosity got the better of her and she glanced at the store window. Apparently, there was some author having an autograph session at the bookstore that day. From the squeals and excited cries of the female kind, Djemn was confident that the author was male.

Autograph session or not, Djemn had purchases to make and thus, the two push their way into the shop. Once inside, they heard what seemed to be some sort of announcement being made by the author. Djemn recognized the author immediately as the face that Borgin had morphed into earlier. With distaste, she noted that the real thing was even more unpleasant than the fake one. This one just seemed to exude a sense of obnoxiousness. And the multiple photographs of himself smiling and winking at the crowd didn't help either.

"—announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped while the author, Gilderoy Lockhart, took a stack of books and handed them to a skinny boy next to him. The world is small as Djemn recognized yet another person she had seen earlier. That skinny boy was the very same one who had nearly ran into them at Borgin and Burkes. It seemed that someone had fixed his glasses as it was no longer broken.

The boy, staggering under the weight of the books, walked over to a small redhead girl who was standing in a corner next to a cauldron and mumbled something to her before dumping all the books in his arms into the cauldron. Then, they were joined by another boy, this one a blond. The blond had a nasty sneer on his face and after a few words, the three started arguing. Soon, they were joined by even more people. Finally, when it seemed like a fight was about to break, an adult man, who looked to be the redheads' father, tried to usher the children outside when another blond man joined the small crowd, this one no doubt the blond boy's father.

The crowds inside the bookstore were getting bigger and bigger. So much so that Djemn and Hadrian were quite unwillingly pushed towards the small group of children and their fathers. As they got closer and closer, Djemn saw the blond man reach into the cauldron and pick out a battered book.

"—not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard, if they don't even pay you well for it."

The redheaded man flushed a deep red in anger. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly." said the blond man as his eyes strayed to a brunette couple who were watching the exchange warily. "The company you keep, Weasley… And I thought your family could sink no low—"

"_Excuse us_."

The blond man didn't have the chance to finish his sentence as Hadrian, quite haughtily, asked for passage behind him. During the exchange between the two sides, Djemn and Hadrian had been forced to move till they were directly behind the group. And it was really quite true that the group was now blocking their way.

"You are in our way."

The blond man named Malfoy sneered at Hadrian then thrust the book in his hand to the small redhead girl.

"Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you –"

Then the blond man beckoned to his son and left the shop. He was lucky that Hadrian had interrupted when he did as the redhead man looked as though he could have given the blond man a black eye then and there. Once Malfoy was gone, he seemed to relax and turned to Hadrian to thank him for resolving the issue but Djemn had already tugged on Hadrian's sleeve and led him away from the group.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Harry watched as the tall man in black that he nearly ran into earlier break the fight between Mr.Weasley and Malfoy Sr. He watched as the Malfoy patriarch sneered at him and thrust _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ back at Ginny. He watched as Draco left with his father. And he watched as the small girl tug on the man's sleeve and led him away before Mr.Weasley could say anything. Their eyes met for a split second before the girl looked away and disappeared into the crowd.

Did she help them on purpose? If so, then why? From what Harry could gather, she had the aristocratic air, expensive clothes and the confident poise. Definitely a pureblood. Then why help them, the half-bloods and the blood traitors mingling with the muggles? With a sigh, Harry resigned that he will probably never know as the girl obviously doesn't want to speak with them and she's a bit too small to be going to Hogwarts this year. That thought dismissed, Harry followed the Weasleys back to the Leaky Cauldron where they will be flooing back to the Burrow.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn leaned back into the couch she was sitting on, her eyes never leaving the words in the book she held. She and Hadrian had returned home that day after buying about what was a quarter of Flourish and Blotts. It had cost a bit but it was worth it. The first compartment in her trunk was now happily filled with endless volumes of books. The first day itself, Djemn had spent an entire day cataloging and arranging the books according to her wishes. Neatly arranged and set, she went on to start reading the contents. By a week, she had finished most of her first year syllabus. It was really quite simple once she applied her own logic to it. The only drawback was that she could not use her wand to do magic before she turned seventeen. But a few days after Flourish and Blotts, she had found a way to solve this problem.

It was unintentional. She was practicing hand movements without her wand for the _Wingardium Leviosa _spell when her teacup started to hover above its saucer. She was pleasantly surprised and tried again and again to verify this phenomenon. In the end, she concluded that as long as she made some sort of hand movement and thought hard enough, the spell would happen. This had been most pleasing to her as well as her parents when she showed them what she could do with the cutlery. Transfiguration was harder. She needed to concentrate more and by the end of it, she would be quite tired from the exertion. She started with something simple like changing the shape of a spoon to that of a spork. She had managed but when she tried to change the entire spoon into a fork, she had fainted in her rooms. Her mother was quite hysteric when she found her daughter sprawled on the carpet of her sitting room. Since then, Djemn had needed to be extra careful lest her parents ban her from performing transfiguration as it may worsen her condition.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The red steam engine stood in all its glory at Platform 9 ¾. People were bustling about with their activities. Children were running amok, parents were scolding and bidding goodbyes. There were various pets and luggage strewn about and Djemn took a moment to stare at it all. It was so different compared to St.Bastian where the children arrived and left in limousines and other expensive cars.

It was September the first, the day Djemn departed to attend Hogwarts. Even now, it seemed so unreal that she would be doing what she was. To think that she, of all people, was going to attend a magic school. It just seemed absurd. All her life she had never so much as believed in fairies, even when she was a tiny toddler. And now here she was, about to depart from her old life into one of vampires and banshees.

With her were Hadrian, her mother and Niles: her butler who had been in the family since her grandfather's time. Her father was nowhere in sight. But then again, he was never present for any of her farewells, academic ceremonies or evaluations. It was just that way in the Helesande household. The only time they were ever all together is during dinner which is compulsory for all members of the family to attend.

"Have you everything? Are you feeling ill in any way?"

"Everything is ready, mother. And no, I am not feeling ill. Rest assured."

Minutes passed as Djemn tried to reassure her mother that she was set and fine. Hadrian and Niles both gave her advice on anything and everything they could think of that might happen when Djemn reached what they called 'the other side'. She smiled at some of their jokes as her trunk and pet eagle waited dutifully beside her. Her father had bought the eagle for her when she did not buy an owl for post use. It was a white bellied sea eagle, a very beautiful one, albeit young. When it grew to its largest, Djemn probably will not be able to keep it in a cage for there will not be a bird cage large enough to fit it in.

Five minutes to departure, Djemn hugged them all and boarded the train. She promised to write as soon as she could so as to put her poor mother's heart at ease. Djemn went through the train till she found an empty compartment and settled in. She looked out the window and saw that her family had already left. Realizing that she still had six hours of train ride ahead of her, she reached into her personal library in her trunk and picked out a book to read. Making herself comfortable, she opened _Light, Dark and Useful Potions_.

Moments later, loud voices could be heard outside her window. Being Djemn, she did what she did best: she ignored them. But the voices only got louder and more hysterical, particularly the female speaker. Annoyed that her reading was interrupted, Djemn glanced outside to see the source of her irritation. She was mildly surprised to see the redhead man that she had seen at Flourish and Blotts the other day. The world really is a small place; or maybe it's just the wizarding community.

The man and his companion, presumably his wife, were gesturing wildly and making loud exclamations. Djemn caught a few words by the woman as her husband desperately tried to calm her.

"Where—they? What—do? will—miss train—"

Djemn took her gaze away and leaned back in her seat to continue reading. So it would seem that one of their children were either late or missing. Typical childish behavior. It doesn't matter; it was none of her business.

**Author's Notes:** Wow, I finished this in one day. It might feel a bit weird though, because of that. I guess I'm trying to make the best of my still-free time though I'm supposed to be doing homework instead. Again, reviews, opinions and constructive criticism are welcome. Flames will be used for brewing nasty potions. A very big THANK YOU to reviewer ecchiman. You are my first ever reviewer on my first ever story. But I can't seem to access your site; sorry.

In this chapter, Djemn may seem a bit paranoid about Professor McGonagall but that's because of the nature of her upbringing. Her family is not all that innocent. But I can't say more or I'll ruin the fun. Then, about the size of her trunk. During the two days before her return to Diagon, she had read ahead in the books that she already had and could roughly tell what she needed at Hogwarts. Plus, she has it that Dark and Light magic don't make a difference. They both fall under the same category: Magic. Therefore, the fun experience in Knockturn. Lastly, about her wandless magic. I will not explain the why and how it can happen as it will give too much away. However, I will say that the Ministry did not manage to detect her usage as it is too little. If that reason does not work, then we'll just say Lady Fate made it that they could not sense her so that she may practice her magic in secret. One more thing: is the story too narrative? Would more dialogue be preferred? Give me your views. Feel free to ask any other questions and I will try to answer them to my best without spoiling the plot. Have a nice day, everyone.


	3. 3: The Sorting and Uraeus

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 3 – The Sorting and Uraeus.**

By the time the train started moving at eleven, it was a relief for Djemn. The noise outside had started to grate on her nerves. She was not used to such ear-sore. Even at school when the drill sergeants were all whistling and shouting at once, it wasn't as raucous as the platform right before departure. It certainly didn't help that the redhead man and woman were loud enough to be heard clearly through her window.

Finally, the train was clear of the station and Djemn could once more concentrate on her reading. It was fascinating to say the least. She never knew such concoctions existed just to make another's life miserable. Lost in her book, hours passed her by until a lady with a trolley full of what seemed to be candies stopped by her compartment.

"Anything for you, my dear?"

Djemn felt her hand twitch involuntarily and used her many years of practice to not show any unpleasant emotion on her face. She was shocked at the various and large amounts of candy on the trolley. Her insides squirmed ever so slightly at the sight. Dislike was one thing and hate was another. And Djemn_ hated_ candy. She hated the fake and sickly sweet, sticky feeling of it in her mouth. Even when a toddler, Djemn could never be won over by candy. Books and pets worked better. Thus, she politely refused the multi-coloured sugar-filled edibles. Realizing that she should eat something before Hogwarts, she retrieved a single nutrition bar from her trunk.

While Djemn chewed thoughtfully on it, she observed the landscapes passing her by. They had left the city and town areas and were now traveling through wider, free, meadow-like fields. She saw one or two farmhouses and some animals grazing on the lush green grass of summer. It made her stare in wonder. Besides school, her manor, and several holiday homes her family frequented during the seasons, she had never been outside or apart from her parents. Hogwarts would be the first. But Djemn wouldn't complain. She had never want or saw need to leave the manor. Her life as it was, was ideal and perfect as far as she was concerned.

Approaching four o'clock, her compartment door opened yet again. This time, it was the blond boy from Flourish and Blotts. He stood arrogantly at the doorway. Two other boys, large and bulky, stood directly behind him. He looked at Djemn with a light sneer on his face for a few moments before recognition shone in his eyes.

"You're the one from the bookstore."

As he obviously remembers, Djemn didn't deign to give him an answer. The boy scowled.

"What's your name?"

Normally, Djemn wouldn't bother to answer to such an impolite person. But she had seen the boy and his father's behavior in front of others and decided that a little testiness wouldn't hurt. It would teach the boy to mind his words around her as she didn't want a repeat of what happened at the bookstore.

"I did not know that wizarding folk was so ill-mannered that they demand another's name before giving their own. How uncouth." said Djemn with a touch of disregard.

The boy grew slightly pink with anger. He looked as though he wanted to spit a horrible word at Djemn but held himself back. Then he raised his head proud and stared down his nose at Djemn who was, incidentally, quite small and was sitting down.

"I am Draco Malfoy."

"My name is Djemn Helesande."

Draco paused a moment, thinking. Then he gave a full out sneer at Djemn.

"Helesande? Never heard of it. You're a muggle-born?"

"Yes."

"So you're a mudblood then."

He stopped here and carefully observed Djemn's reaction. She didn't give him one. Moments passed and they continued to wage a staring contest until Draco got fed up and left with one last nasty sneer at Djemn. He figured that being a muggle-born, she didn't understand the phrase. But that was where he was wrong. Djemn had understood perfectly what he had called her. She just didn't think he was worthy enough to waste her time on and merely ignored the malicious insult. With the books from Knockturn Alley that she had managed to read, she understood the delicate social politics in the wizarding world, particularly those involving muggle-borns, half-bloods, and purebloods. With not much deliberation, she concluded that Draco Malfoy must be a pureblood from a rich, influential family. It would certainly explain his spoiled, unpleasant attitude.

With no more interruptions after that, Djemn managed to finish _Light, Dark and Useful Potions_ before dusk fell and the arrival of the Hogwarts Express at Hogmeade Station.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The Great Hall was as magnificent as Djemn imagined it would be, which was really quite a disappointment to her. She had hoped that the magical world would be able to become the element of surprise and amaze in her life, something that was lacking in her old life back at St.Bastian. Back there, everything was so predictable that she could walk around blind-folded and still beat the next rogue that attacked her.

The boat ride had been… normal besides the fact that the boats moved by themselves. Then, she had met Professor McGonagall again at the castle doors. One thing after another and they were finally being sorted. Thinking about the sorting made irritation flare in Djemn. When she had first read about the house system in _Hogwarts, A History_, she had nearly cried out in indignation at the ridiculous, discriminative classification of students. Who's to say that just because someone was ambitious, that person will be disloyal? And who's to say that a brave person will not be studious? The school was practically _dividing_ the students according to their behavior and stronger points. Yet they preach of unity and harmony among the students. It is really quite impossible for that to happen when said students have a particular house and code of behavior to follow. Those that do not or could not follow the conduct of their housemates will be shunned. And no doubt there will be strong rivalry and animosity between the houses. What sort of school would want and allow this to happen?

Djemn was sure that the founders meant well when they created this system to sort their students. She just wished that they had put more insight into what would happen in the future if this system continued to be carried out. Discrimination was one thing the world had little need of, be it in the muggle or wizarding community.

"Allen, Lilyana."

HUFFLEPUFF!

The sorting had started. The nervous first years tried not to fidget with anxiety as one by one went forward to sit on the stool and was sorted. Djemn was standing near the back of the line. She kept slight notice of the sorting as she carefully studied the interior of the Great Hall. Four long tables were placed vertically along the hall with benches on either side of each. At the end of the hall, one horizontal table stood on a slightly raised platform. This was the teachers table. In the middle sat an old man with the longest beard she'd ever seen. But what caught her attention was more of the clothes he was wearing: bright grass green robes with moving suns orbiting around the hems. How… odd. Then, as she continued to listen to the sorting and stare at the moving suns on the old man's robes, she thought she heard a crash and the sound of splitting wood. Djemn concentrated her senses and listened harder but heard no more of the previous sounds. Perhaps she was just apprehensive. Taking a deep breath, she told herself to rear in her impulses. It wouldn't do to think of what she shouldn't on the first day itself.

"Evermul, Jason."

GRYFFINDOR!

The sorting was getting closer to her name now. Djemn suddenly pondered about whichever house she might be placed in. She had not given it much thought as she didn't agree with the sorting system in the first place. As so, she didn't really care where the Sorting Hat put her; she would still be the same Djemn.

"Foreman, Chrissen."

RAVENCLAW!

"Helesande, Djemn."

Djemn stepped forward towards the stool, face impassive. She decided that since she didn't care, she'll just let the hat choose. The moment she sat down, view now facing the entrance of the hall, she saw two boys peering in from outside. One of them was the scrawny boy who nearly ran into her and Hadrian at Knockturn Alley while the other was the redhead man's son. Her mind vaguely wondered if they were the ones who caused the redhead couple so much worry this morning. And what were they doing outside the hall? She didn't get to ponder much before the hat was placed on her head and covered her eyes.

"……… Oh MY! Well, I'd thought I'd never see the day! This is simply astounding! To think that this could happen _now_ of all times!—"

Djemn nearly startled to hear a foreign voice in her head. Sure, she'd heard her own voice plenty of times during her discussions at Perspicacity but never has she heard another's voice in her head. _Hogwarts, A History_ never mentioned that the Sorting Hat could talk to the students mentally. With no small amount of alarm, Djemn immediately began shutting down whatever knowledge or mental pathway that was open.

"—Now calm down, dear. I won't…… do what you think I will. Though I must say, the advanced development of your mental abilities is baffling. And I see that you have no knowledge of magic whatsoever before this? But of course, there's _that_ to consider…… Excellent mind, ideal body, distinctive personality; you would do well in any house, as your mind so believes as well. But one can only go in a single house and it is my job to sort you. Hmm… No, Hufflepuff will not do… Definitely not Gryffindor… The choice is between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Do you have any opinions on this?"

Djemn wanted to say no and that she didn't care whichever house the hat sorted her in but a sudden thought stopped her.

"—You did WHAT! Well, that leaves little room for discussion, doesn't it? Oh, well—"

SLYTHERIN!

Djemn lifted the hat from her head and instantly saw the two boys from earlier talking to a pale, skinny man with shoulder length greasy hair. The man had a rather evil smile on his face. He said something to the boys and they both followed him away. Dismissing it, she turned to give the hat back to Professor McGonagall only to see her staring at her person with wide disbelieving eyes. She jerked out of it when Djemn handed the hat back to her and continued with the sorting, though she seemed a bit distracted. The table second from the right of the hall applauded her sorting and she went to find a seat there. The other tables were not as enthusiastic with their clapping; Djemn was not wrong about the house rivalry and animosity. Once seated, she realized that Draco Malfoy was also present at the same table. He gave her his biggest sneer thus far and said something to his friends. Soon, loud exclamations began sprouting from all over the table. Phrases like "—Muggle-born—", "—doesn't belong here—", "—mistake … resorting—" and the like were heard.

Djemn ignored them. She will not be bothered by their unfounded prejudices against muggle-borns and halfbloods. She watched as Professor McGonagall continued with the sorting until it ended with a "Wilhelmine, Michelle." who became a Hufflepuff. The professor took away the stool and Sorting Hat and the old man with the oddly coloured robes stood up. Djemn had recognized him as Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Well, his name was certainly fitting. In Latin, 'albus' meant white and he certainly was white what with his long silvery beard and hair. The headmaster clapped twice and started to give his announcement. Right after that, food appeared on the table. Large amounts of it.

Djemn tried not to grimace as she stared at the various victuals on the table. There were beef, lamp, chicken, turkey, pork, sausages, a few vegetables, gravy and more. Djemn took a few deep breaths to calm her stomach. It was times like this that she was not grateful for her strictly controlled diet. If her mother saw what she was about to eat, she would cry out, scandalized, then faint. But seeing as her mother was not there and she had no choice but to eat whatever was on the table, Djemn gingerly took some salad, carrot sticks, roast potatoes and a little lamp chop. Then she set herself to eat and not look up at the mountains of food that everyone seemed to gorge on.

Chewing her food carefully, she surveyed the hall yet again. With a slight frown, she realized that most of the students were happily stuffing themselves with food without really looking at what they were eating, especially the two large and bulky boys at her table, the same two who were following the Malfoy boy on the train. Moving her eyes elsewhere, she decided to study the teachers table instead. Somewhere near the middle, she saw a dumpy witch talking to Professor McGonagall. Just as she was about to turn her eyes to the rest of the table, the pale, skinny man who she had seen with the two boys earlier entered the hall through a side door and walked straight to Professor McGonagall. He said something to her and the witch seemed to flare with anger. He then turned to the headmaster and repeated his actions. The headmaster, on the other hand, seemed to be pained and somewhat saddened at the man's words. Then, the man and Professor McGonagall left the hall through the side door in a hurry while the headmaster stayed.

Djemn frowned. Problems so quickly into the year? This is the famed Hogwarts? Djemn knew that she was being a bit too critical too soon but she felt that it was justified for her to think this way. She had given up a large portion of her old life and its glory to come to Hogwarts. While it may have been her own choice, she felt that it could at least be half the worth of what she'd left behind. What she'd seen so far didn't impress her very much.

The headmaster rose and left through the side door. Djemn decided to dismiss the matter and let her eyes scan the rest of the staff table. She saw a small little wizard who seemed to be very happy for no reason at all. Moving on, she noted with resignation that the author had not been lying that day in the bookstore when he said that he would be taking up a teaching position at Hogwarts this year. Defence Against the Dark Arts, was it? Djemn had a feeling that she would not be learning much in his class, even though he had supposedly written nearly all of their Defence books. She could always tell when a person is an incompetent one.

Djemn finished the rest of her food just as the headmaster returned to his seat. The skinny man had followed him into the hall and was now sitting at the teachers table. So, he was a professor. Had the two boys gotten into trouble? As she observed their faces, the headmaster seemed to be a bit more cheerful than when he left while the skinny man was now scowling fiercely.

Djemn's housemates had all started to scoot away from her since the discovery of her 'status'. By now, there was at least a person's space on either side of her. And nobody had even once tried to talk to her. This suited her just fine. If all of them were to ignore her and she them, then they may just be able to survive this year without anyone getting hurt or dying.

Dinner disappeared only to be replaced by desserts. Assortments of pies, tarts, éclairs, puddings, ice-creams and pastries appeared on the table. Djemn wisely stayed clear of these. She had already eaten things that she shouldn't and more than what she should. Some extra pounds of sugar was definitely not what she needed on her first day. When the desserts finally went away and every, well almost every, student was full and contented, the headmaster stood up for another announcement.

"I've a few announcements to make. Firstly, all first years should take note that the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. Some of our older students may do well to remember this as well."

Here, the headmaster looked pointedly towards the table at the far left, specifically at a few redheads. How matching, thought Djemn.

"I have also been asked by Mr.Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic is allowed in the corridors between class periods. Now, before we retire to our warm beds, let us sing the school song!"

At that, the headmaster shot multi-coloured ribbons out of his wand. They started to twist and bend to form words in the air.

HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS,

TEACH US SOMETHING PLEASE,

WHETHER WE BE OLD AND BALD, ………

It was really thanks to her extensive training that Djemn did not let her jaw go slack with shock. It was the most ridiculous school song she had _ever_ heard. Granted, she'd only ever heard of St.Bastian's anthem but still. All around her, people were singing in their own personal tunes. Some were fast and others slow. She heard rap and opera from the back and some rather depressing tones from the front. Some students were even dancing along with the words. By the time Djemn shook herself out of her shock, the short song had already ended.

"Ah, music! Magic for the soul. Now off to bed with you! Spit-spot!"

Djemn numbly followed her Slytherin prefect out of the Great Hall and into the dungeons. The further they went, the colder, darker, and damper it got. Djemn was aware that this particular environment will pose a problem to her come December but she decided that she'll deal with it when the time comes. She can't do anything about it now anyway. They turned and finally came to a stop in front of a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"The password is _Pureblood_. Remember it!" said the prefect who was leading them. As soon as the word left his mouth, nasty sneers, leers, insults, and stares were directed at Djemn. She didn't even blink an eye. They can all taunt her until their tongues rot for all she cared. A hidden door appeared after the password was given and the Slytherin students moved to enter their dorm.

The Slytherin common room was a low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling. Round, greenish lamps hung from chains and a blazing fire was burning at an elaborate fireplace. The furniture was made of carved wood and decorations were mostly done in dark colours, namely green and black. There were several shelves here and there but most of the books looked as though they haven't been touched in years. There was no other entrance or exit except for two doors on either side of the room.

The Slytherin prefect told the first years that the girls' dorms were to the left and the boys', to the right. Since they were the only ones who stayed in the dungeons, there was plenty of space and it was every two students to a room with an adjoining bathroom. Before he got any further, the pale, skinny man had arrived in the common room. He stared at the young students like he was trying to pick them apart by just looking at them. After a long pause, he barked for all of them to listen carefully and began to speak.

"I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts and your Head of House. When you were sorted into the house of Slytherin, you were placed under my care. I will have all of you know that I _will not_ tolerate any misbehavior unbefitting that of a Slytherin. You are the most cunning and ambitious amongst the rest of those bumbling fools called students. I expect you to have a keen sense of self-preservation and not get into any trouble that may result in the deduction of house points. During your stay here at Hogwarts, your accomplishments will earn you points and your misconducts will make you lose points. By the end of the school year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup which is a _glory_ and _triumph_ over the other houses. Curfew is at ten. Anyone caught anywhere besides the common room and their dorms after that time will be punished accordingly. Do I make myself_ clear_?"

During the speech, all the first years stood stunned and frozen by the sharp tongue of their Head of House. At his sudden question, they all nodded quickly. Djemn felt a small tug at the corner of her mouth. This person was sharp and witty; an interesting mix. Seeing their frightened nods, the satisfied professor paired them off for their dorms and dismissed them.

Djemn gave one last glance at the common that will be hers for the next few years before she turned to head to her dorm room. On her way, she caught the professor staring at her from across the couches and armchairs. He wasn't sneering or scowling but merely giving her a very hard look. A look that seemed as though he was trying to read her out loud. Djemn turned and left the common room.

The room she received was the second door on the left from the common room. Further down the hallway, there were steps going up to, Djemn can only assume, the older years' dorms. Her room consisted of two four-poster beds, two wardrobes, and two writing desks. The beds had dark green and silver hangings while the wood for the desks and wardrobes were oak. There was only one trunk placed in the room and it was at the foot of the bed closest to the door. On the far wall, there was another door leading to the bathroom. Djemn assumed that, since there was only one trunk, hers, it meant that she will be the only one using this room as they have had an odd number of new female Slytherins.

"**_Let me out of here!"_**

Djemn froze when she heard the familiar voice. Taking two long strides, she swooped down on her trunk and opened the last compartment. Immediately, a 20-inch long, shiny, bright green snake slithered out onto the cold dungeon floor.

"**_Misstressss, I nearly died in that thing!"_** it hissed in indignation.

"**_My apologies, Uraeus. It was not on my intention. The feast and introductions took longer than expected."_** Djemn hissed back, trying to placate her reptilian pet. Said snake was now tasting the air and looking around the unfamiliar room, black eyes taking in every detail.

"**_Thiss room iss lacking. The air iss too cold. And there are sssmellss here that will missdirect my senssesss. Even our nesst iss more sssuitable and … glamourousss, as you would ssay." _**

Uraeus continued to comment about the room's flaws and imperfections in a critical and stern manner. Djemn smiled at her pet's antics. She had to secretly smuggle Uraeus out of the manor grounds for she knew that her parents would never consent it. And of course, there was the school and its rules on animal familiars. Djemn was suddenly grateful that the rest of the Slytherins disliked and avoided her. If not, Uraeus would have been easily discovered.

"**_Your nest was built at father's expense. I doubt even a reptilian hotel could rival it."_**

Uraeus answered a smug **_"Of courssse!"_** and slithered onto Djemn's bed where it was warmer. Djemn, on the other hand, started to unpack her robes and other necessities. The reptile watched her work hisslessly.

Ever since she could remember, Djemn could talk to snakes. She realized this sometime around the age of five. Her father had an odd obsession with snakes and the like. He had ordered a reptile house to be made on the western manor grounds and named it Egypt. There, he kept and reared snakes that he bought from foreign lands. He even hired a full-time professional keeper for them. The snakes' number only increased until Djemn's mother had demanded that he stop. Even then, she could not stop him from breeding his existing pets. When she was five, Djemn's father had brought her to Egypt without his wife's knowledge. There, he let her handle a young python that was one of the lesser aggressive ones. Imagine his surprise and delight when Djemn began to ask to return to Egypt to 'play with her friends'. Djemn's mother had been mortified. Since then, the snakes have been Djemn's best friends and confidants for they would not and could not expose her secrets. But even then, Djemn had understood that it was unnatural to be able to speak to snakes and thus have never told anyone about her ability. Sometimes, even she herself thought that it was merely her imagination that the snakes were speaking with her. But every time she had her doubts, her 'friends' would reassure her that it wasn't.

"**_Do not think that I have forgotten about the horrible imprissonment. I would ssay that I dessserve a reward for my patience and good behavior." _**

Djemn nearly laughed. Her pet was just too cute. Uraeus was a smooth green snake that her father had brought home one day from his travel to the United States. Then, he was but an egg. Djemn had gone to Egypt to see him everyday till he hatched last year. She immediately 'adopted' the snake and cared for him like a mother. Pausing in her unpacking, she took out a container from the second compartment of her trunk and seized three live crickets from inside it. Then, she held her hand out to Uraeus who instantly snatched and swallowed the three crickets without a moment's thought.

"**_Hungry, are we?"_**

Uraeus was too busy savouring the crickets to answer her. Djemn chuckled softly and went back to her task of putting away her belongings.

**Author's Notes:** Double wow, I finished this chapter in lesser time than I did the second one. I must be getting desperate to write as much as I can while I can. Again, I ask for donations of reviews, opinions, constructive criticisms, and whatever-not you generous people will be kind enough to give me. Flames will be used to heat up the cold dungeons for poor Uraeus.

In this chapter, the Sorting Hat had said that Djemn would do well no matter which house she went into. I don't know if anyone got it, but it put her in Slytherin when it found out that Djemn had smuggled a snake into the school. Can't have a student owning a snake in any other house, can we? About the part of the food, Djemn had a very controlled diet because of her _condition_ which, I cannot expose. And yes, Djemn had a very twisted sense of humour therefore she finds Professor Snape funny. Uraeus does not call Djemn 'Mother' even though she 'adopted' him because she isn't. It's just weird to call a human your mother when you're a snake, don't you think? And he referred to the reptile house as 'our nest' because he shares it with the many other snakes. I don't think I mentioned this in the last chapter but Hogwarts allows only owls and not eagles, yes? Let's just make it that they either didn't care or there is just no such rule in this story. Have a nice day, everyone.

Uraeus – The sacred serpent as an emblem of power represented on the headdress of ancient Egyptian divinities and sovereigns.


	4. 4: First Day, Goodbye CockaDoodle

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 4 – First Day, Goodbye Cock-a-Doodle. **

Djemn's eyes snapped open. It was five o'clock, sharp. She sat up and stretched, Uraeus sliding off of her abdomen. He hissed grumpily about it being too early to be active and went to burrow himself under her comforter. Djemn smiled fondly at her pet then entered the bathroom. She emerged moments later with her face in a white towel. Cold splashes never failed to wake her. Then, she went to her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of matching work-out clothes. After putting them on, she left her dorm and proceeded to exit the dungeons. She was not afraid that someone might enter her room and see Uraeus; she had put a neat little spell she'd learned from one of her books on the door. It keeps everyone out or in except her. While she didn't know whether or not she had done it correctly as it was technically her first spell with a wand, she was confident enough. Besides, Uraeus was smart.

On her way, she saw not one person at all; not in the common room or the school hallways. But of course, what manner of human being wakes up at five in the morning? Djemn wanted to chuckle darkly at that thought. If only they were knew. But thankfully, they didn't.

Djemn used her memory and managed to backtrack her way to the entrance hall. She exited the building and made her way to the lake. Once there, she did full stretches and warm-ups then began to run laps around the lake. It was still dim and she was careful to not trip over anything while she ran. It would be hazardous if she started to lose blood now. She ran for nearly an hour before she started on the second part of her work-out. Two hours after she left, she returned to her dorm.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn arrived at breakfast rather early. She had taken a shower, hissed reassurances to Uraeus, then left with her weightless, bottomless bag which was filled with whatever she might need to use that day along with some interesting books that she might want to read if she was bored. She was grateful for her thinking ahead when she saw that the Great Hall was only half full when she arrived. Djemn sat down and helped herself to some porridge. When she was done, she fished a random book out of her bag and started to read. The few Slytherin students that were at the table gave her dirty looks and sat further away from her. Djemn did as Djemn does and ignored them. She knew that she needed to stay there to receive her timetable for the year. Soon, more and more students filled the hall. Breakfast became a noisy affair and Djemn struggled to keep her concentration. She became vaguely aware that some people were staring at her but she ignored them. Suddenly, there was a loud rushing sound and the hall was filled with owls delivering letters……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Hermione Granger stared over the top of her _Voyages with Vampires_ at the girl sitting alone at the Slytherin table. Djemn Helesande had striked her as an interesting subject the moment she saw her at the bookstore. Her skin complexion was not one of the usual English colour. It was a very nice mixture of milk with tea. Both her hair and eyes were an endless black and the shape of her face seemed a bit Asian. When she had turned her head, Hermione had been surprised to see two long stripes of white flowing down just behind her ears. What strange colouration.

She had been a bit put off when she thought that the girl who helped them the other day in Flourish and Blotts was another spoilt rich pureblood. The Sorting Hat even put her in Slytherin! But when she saw the way the other 'snakes' were acting around her, she was intrigued. Was she not a pureblood? Or has she done something that had caused them to dislike her, like Ron? With Harry and Ron both late to arrive yesterday, Hermione had not much to think about and had caught herself wondering about the girl whose sorting had taken slightly longer than usual. What's more interesting, said girl arrived very early for breakfast, alone, which was quite strange for a Slytherin. Not only are they all for comfort and sleeping-in, Slytherins tended to move in 'packs' for fear of being ambushed by the other houses. Then, as Hermione observed, the other Slytherins seemed to move further away from Djemn. Even those who just came into the Great Hall took seats some distance away. No one wanted to sit near her. Djemn however, took no notice of this whatsoever.

Harry and Ron arrived for breakfast and sat down beside her. With Djemn and the events of yesterday still on her mind, Hermione had merely said a stiff "Morning." and pretended to be busy reading. Neville, who sat opposite her, greeted the two warmly and started a conversation with Ron; something about his grandmother sending him things he forgot. Then, there was a loud flapping of wings and something grey plummeted into the milk jug in front of Hermione, spraying them all with milk.

"Errol!" exclaimed Ron. He pulled the poor owl out of the jug and placed him on the table where the bird slumped, unconscious, with his feet sticking into the air. He had a red envelope in his beak.

"Oh no."

Hermione gently prodded Errol with her index finger and reassured Ron that it was still alive.

"It's not that—it's _that!_" Ron pointed to the red envelope. Both him and Neville had gone quite pale in the face and were staring at it like they expected it to do something destructive. Then, in a timid voice, Neville urged Ron to open it for if he didn't, something worse would happen. Harry, on the other hand, was just puzzled and asked what, exactly, was the red envelope. Ron, however, didn't answer him as he was too focused on the said object, which had smarted to smoke at the edges. With one more urge from Neville, Ron reached over, took the letter, and slit it open……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THAT IT HAD GONE..."

Djemn looked up with a start as a deafening, faintly familiar voice thundered throughout the hall. The plates and cutlery rattled slightly as the woman continued to scream at the top of her lungs. Djemn looked around and saw a redhead boy trying to sink below the table, a scarlet envelope in his hand. Ah, a Howler, thought Djemn. She didn't think she would see one so soon. Are the students here so ill-behaved that they receive disciplinary letters even before the start of classes?

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED…"

So she was right then. The two boys _had_ gotten into trouble and they_ had_ been the reason for the redhead couple's distress. Djemn watched as the black haired boy tried not to be bothered by the earsplitting voice. The hall had gotten silent and still. No one dared to move as if scared that the letter would turn on them if they did. A few more moments later, the scolding stopped and the letter, which had fallen from the redhead boy's hand, burst into flames. It ended up as a lump of ashes on his table. Silence reigned for a few moments more before someone laughed and talk broke out again, this time even more excited and chaotic than before. Djemn resigned and gave up reading. She saw a bushy-headed girl try to talk to the redhead boy but he snapped at her while the black haired boy just looked guilty. Djemn didn't feel sorry for them; it was the consequence of their actions.

Just then, Professor Snape came to give out their timetables. Djemn took hers and saw that she had Transfiguration first thing. Perfect.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"The match will not transfigure itself, Miss Helesande. That is what your wand is for." said Professor McGonagall in a stern voice. Djemn blinked up at the professor. She had been doing it just fine without the aid of a wand back at the manor. Granted, it _was_ a bit slow, but if her understanding was correct, it takes a lot more concentration to do it wandlessly. If she were to just transfigure the match with a wand, then there'd be no point in the exercise as it would be too simple and direct.

Seeing the professor frown at her when she did not do as asked, Djemn obediently picked up her wand, which was sitting on the right side of her table, and pointed it at the match. She felt the tiny pulls of magic flowing down the length of her wand. As predicted, the match instantly turned into a very nice and shiny needle. Djemn glanced back at Professor McGonagall and saw a mildly shocked look on her face. The professor picked up the needle and discreetly inspected it. Once she was convinced that it was indeed transfigured correctly, she put two more matches on Djemn's table and told her to do the same with them. Djemn did. Both at once. Of course, she did it with her wand. She doubted she'd be able to transfigure them simultaneously if she were to do it wandlessly, but _with_ her wand, it was simply think and point. Simple, really.

"Well… Excellent work, Miss Helesande. Ten points to Slytherin." said Professor McGonagall. She seemed a bit distracted as she collected the needles from Djemn's table and went to inspect the rest of her students. Djemn watched her go with a mix of thoughts. Perhaps she shouldn't have shown so much proficiency at magic so soon. She was, after all, a muggle-born who supposedly had no knowledge of magic until now. Or rather, a few weeks back. It's a wonder what a few weeks and some tens of books could to a person's knowledge on a certain subject. Though she understood that discretion was the best at all times, she had to move fast if her plan was to work. She can't afford to stay stagnant forever.

After Transfiguration was Charms. Tiny Professor Flitwick was right bouncing with elation when Djemn managed to get the _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm perfect on the first try; with her wand, that is. Then again, that charm was probably Djemn's best as she had been using it most around the manor, making things levitate towards her so that she wouldn't have to go retrieve them herself. She even once tried it on Uraeus, just to see if she could use the spell on living objects. She could. The snake had refused to speak with Djemn for hours after that.

Lunch came and Djemn was once again reminded that she would have to write to her mother soon regarding the choices of food available at Hogwarts. She certainly needed more of the appropriate pills if she were to continue consuming the food here. After a very small meal, Djemn decided to head out to the lake again; the fresh air would definitely do her good. And it was really the few chances that she could go outside before the cold came and her infirmity kicked in. She sat down on a large stone by the lake and enjoyed the peace of undisturbed nature until a loud obnoxious voice broke her serenity.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Hermione watched Djemn from over the top of her _Voyages with Vampires_ again. She, Harry and Ron had finished lunch and retreated to just outside the entrance hall where they sat on the stone steps talking about Quidditch. Well, Harry and Ron were talking about Quidditch, Hermione was pretending to be reading, but in reality, was watching Djemn Helesande from behind her book. It was rather strange for her to feel so intrigued by another person, especially a Slytherin girl. But Djemn didn't seem very Slytherin, not to her. Hermione had watched her during the feast, in the hallways, as well as both times during meals today. She was, so far, always alone, an early riser and altogether a bit too quite to be a proud, arrogant Slytherin. But perhaps she was judging a bit too soon. She had barely seen the girl for more than a day; just because she was a bit different than the rest doesn't make her any less of a Slytherin.

Hermione was vaguely aware than a small mousey-haired boy had come over to speak to Harry. He seemed to be excited about something and was talking rather energetically. Hermione glanced over and saw a camera in his hands. Realizing what it was all about, she let Harry deal with it on his own. He had to learn how to untangle himself from situations like this anyway.

"—And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Hermione focused on her book and tried to ignore the loud annoying prat who just suddenly decided to come waste their oxygen. Draco Malfoy wore a mean sneer as he stood behind the small mousey-haired boy – Colin Creevey – flanked by his two troll-like cronies.

"Everyone queue up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"Everyone queue up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

Djemn looked up towards the direction of the obnoxious voice in annoyance. Was there no such thing as peace in this school? She watched as Draco Malfoy sneered at the small group of students sitting on the castle's front stone steps. The Malfoy boy really was fond of petty disagreements, thought Djemn. She noted that he was arguing with the same redhead boy, black-haired boy and the bushy-haired girl she had seen this morning. There was also a small boy with them who was clutching a camera.

Djemn watched as the small group got angry and the redhead boy whipped out his wand to point in the direction of Malfoy. She noted, with slightly raised eyebrows, that the wand was being held together by what seemed to be cellophane tape. How did that happen? Then she remembered the faint crash she had heard during the sorting. Along with the rumours of a flying car and the Howler this morning, Djemn could more or less figure out what had led to the broken wand. Before the redhead could curse Malfoy though, _another _obnoxious person arrived.

Professor Gilderoy Lockhart strode towards them in his hideous turquoise robes and, once he saw the black-haired boy, flung an arm around the boy's shoulders, grinning jovially. The lad looked as though he would rather be anywhere but pinned to the professor's side. Djemn would too if she was in his place. But then again, said professor would have died first before he managed to come that close to her. There was a flash as the small boy's camera went off and the school bell rang, signaling the start of the afternoon classes. The students who were still loitering around the grounds all headed inside as well as the poor black-headed boy, still pinned to the insufferable professor's side. Grateful that she didn't have to face him today, Djemn too returned inside for the rest of her classes.

History of Magic though, was, Djemn had to admit, rather pointless. The students couldn't stay awake long enough to listen to Professor Binns. It would have helped if he didn't drone on and on like a monotonous recording machine. Djemn had decided to put History of Magic time to good use and made her own notes on the finer points in magical history. The shortened notes would definitely be of help in the future when doing reference and revising. Their time with the ghost professor soon ended and the Slytherin first years returned to the dungeons for their first ever Potions class.

The classroom was placed somewhere along the passage to the Slytherin dorms. Inside, the walls were lined with what seemed to be various pickled animals in glass jars. It wasn't as bright here as the other classrooms in the upper floors of the castle but it was all in good league to frighten the nervous first years. As soon as all of the students were in, the door slammed shut with Professor Snape in front of it. Students scrambled to their seats and sat, fearful looks on their faces. The professor went to his desk and took the register before starting on yet another meant-to-frighten-you speech.

"You are here to be taught in the fine art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will scarcely consider this as magic……"

Professor Snape spoke with force, not volume. The first years all sat rooted to their seats with awe, and some, fear. His black eyes roamed over every student, studying them, dissecting them with his eyes. His upper lip seemed to curl ever so slightly whenever his eyes set on a Gryffindor student. Djemn sat listening with amusement. She never knew a man so skinny could be so intimidating with the right clothes and words.

"—if you aren't as big a group of dunderheads as I generally have to educate."

Silence met the end of his speech. One or two students were already looking around frantically, eyes darting about. The professor observed all this quietly before he suddenly barked out a random, or not so random, Gryffindor student's name.

"Tervera! Where would I find a Bellyache Bush?"

Djemn had to practically hold herself still so as to not show any reaction. The corner of her mouth threatened to turn upwards in a fond smile at the mention of the plant. It was one of her favourites in her mother's greenhouse; and one of the most hated by her reptilian friends. Somehow, for one reason or another, snakes abhorred the plant. Djemn had yet to meet one that had not hissed in anger or alarm then slither in the opposite direction. Which made the plant even more amusing and intriguing. Sometimes, she even used it to threaten Uraeus into good behavior.

Nickolas Tervera though, looked as though someone had slapped him in the face. He glanced left and right at his friends for help but none of them seemed to know the answer. Then, with a gulp, he turned towards the professor and said in a tiny voice, "I don't know, sir."

Professor Snape sneered. "It seems that I have to put up with yet _another_ batch of brainless buffoons. Didn't think to open a potions book before coming to Hogwarts, did you? Or are all Gryffindors too good for that?" Djemn saw Nickolas bite his lower lip to hold in any comment that he looked so desperately wanted to say at the professor's words. Professor Snape sneered at him one more time before he turned and came directly into eye contact with Djemn.

"Helesande! Where would I find a Bellyache Bush?"

Djemn stood. "There have been known to grow in warm climates, preferably on wet soil. I would say, in gardens, provided that the conditions are as mentioned."

Professor Snape stared hard at Djemn who stared equally back. Though the professor was still a fair bit taller than Djemn, his intimidating posture did nothing to frighten her. Neither said a word for a few moments until he suddenly snapped, "Ten points to Slytherin and five points from Gryffindor for being unable to answer a simple question." Then he strode to the front of the classroom where he spelled instructions for a potion onto the board. Nickolas gave Djemn a dirty look as she sat down. The Gryffindor first years began to murmur between themselves about favouritism and 'the big evil bat'.

"Silence! You will each be brewing a simple De-fevering Potion. Anyone who muddles this undemanding task will be serving detention. The instructions are on the board." Here, the professor stood glaring at all of them. "Well? What are you waiting for?" He snapped when no one moved. Immediately, the classroom became a flurry of activity. Students tripped over one another as they went to the respective cabinets to retrieve the essential ingredients. Djemn watched calmly then reached into her bag to get her potions kit. Hadrian had made sure that she was stocked with everything she might need during their second shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Better safe than sorry was his motto.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Professor Snape watched the Helesande girl work with a critical eye. She moved with ease around the cauldron, acting not at all confused or unsure of herself. She used the scales to measure a perfect amount of crushed Javillo seeds and poured them into the simmering water which gradually turned a light green.

Now, Professor Severus Snape was a man who liked to know things; just so that he would have a trump card no matter how the situation turned out. Usually, he knew just about everything he had to know about his students, his Slytherins, but when Djemn Helesande came along, she put a hole in his net of confidence. The girl was a muggle-born. And the Sorting Hat had put her in Slytherin; something that had never happened before. What had the blasted hat been thinking when it made that ridiculous decision, Severus will probably never know. But that didn't mean that he would put up with it. The girl was a mudblood, there was no changing that. However, Severus wanted to see if she would be able to withstand the harsh treatment in the Snake House. Until now, all he ever saw was defiance but he could wait. She will not be able to endure it much longer.

Nevertheless, he was mildly surprised when the girl had been able to answer his question. Of course, he would not have taken points even if she didn't; she was, after all, from his house, but he still did not expected her to know about that particular potion ingredient. It was not something commonly found, be it in the real world or in potion books. That made him even more furious. He didn't need another Hermione know-it-all Granger in his class. And the Helesande girl had the cheek to be undisturbed by his glares as well as stare back at him when he was so obviously challenging her standing. He would need to keep an eye on this one at all times. It was his job as the Slytherin Head of House to reign in his students if they ever got out of line. And this one is definitely treading the line.

There was a loud "BOOM!" and the Gryffindor half of the classroom became drenched in red potion. Professor Snape grit his teeth as he stormed over and started clearing up most of the fluids before it spread to the rest of his classroom. The imbeciles will never cease, he thought as he started to lecture and yell at the now potion-covered Gryffindor first years. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who you were, the potion had no side effects on humans unless properly brewed. Thus, the only thing noticeable about the first years besides the red stains on their persons, was the horrible smell of a half-done concoction.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor! That will remind you to not fool around in my class. Now you will clean the rest your workplaces until they are spotless _without magic_ or you shall not leave these dungeons!"

The Gryffindor first years unenthusiastically but obediently started to clear their workplaces. Soon, there was talk amongst them again. Whispers and murmurs mostly but Djemn would occasionally hear a "wretched old arse." and a "sleep-deprived crazy madcap.". She tried not to enjoy herself too much as she put the last ingredient into her potion and let it simmer under a low fire. Her potion was a light bluish-indigo colour and if her memory served her correctly, it should turn pink after ten minutes of simmering. Most of the other students were only half done with their mixing. Some of the potions were even neon green, a colour that shouldn't happen if they were indeed brewing a De-fevering Potion. Djemn noticed that one of them was a strange vivid orange colour. She knew what _that_ meant. While it was right none of her business, she wondered if she should tell……

"BOOM!"

Too late. What had been cleaned was dirtied again.

"DETENTION, MR.RICHARDS! AND YOU AS WELL, MISS BOLAND!"

Djemn decided then and there that she liked Potions. Very much. It was just so entertaining. Yes, it was at the expense of others but what you do is what you get. If they didn't bother to study and read ahead as well as understand the procedures before taking them, then they deserve the consequences of their actions. As simple as that. And she decided that she quite liked Professor Snape too. Granted, he was a positively miserable person to work with and one would feel like skinning him alive after meeting him for just a few minutes, but Djemn felt that he was probably the person with the most character around Hogwarts.

Her timer went off and Djemn immediately put out the fire. She took one of the provided containers and scooped a few ladles of her potion into it, securing and labeling it before leaving it on the professor's desk for grading. She felt his eyes bore into her back as she was walking away. He went over to his desk and inspected the potion, shaking it slightly. She was the first one to complete her assignment. Once he was satisfied, he said in an emotionless tone,

"Ten points to Slytherin for successfully brewing a De-fevering Potion."

Professor Snape didn't like the girl, but he'd be damned if he didn't use every excuse he got to earn points for his house. Plus, it really was a good De-fevering Potion he had in his hands. The muggle-born girl had managed to do it well and correctly on the first try while the so-called halfbloods and purebloods from Gryffindor couldn't even handle the first half of the potion procedure. What was the world coming to?

Slytherin and Gryffindor students alike stared at the container in Professor Snape's hand. Some of them hurried to finish their own potions while others started to mutter under their breaths. Gryffindor had just lost twenty-five points and received detention even before the end of class. On the other hand, Slytherin had just earned twenty points. Djemn was sure that she'd be called a teacher's pet now. It didn't matter to her as she had at least deserved the points. Whoever had anything to say otherwise will just have to talk to her Head of House; she never asked for the points, he _gave_ them to her.

By the end of Potions, only eight Slytherins and two Gryffindors managed to produce anything at all. Excluding Djemn's, one of them was red, two of them brown, five of them blue, and one more, purple. Djemn could see that Professor Snape was not very pleased but judging by the fact that he did not say anything, this was the usual standard of work by first years.

"Read chapter two and submit a foot long essay on the uses of three potion ingredients by Thursday. Dismissed."

While the Gryffindor first years left the Potions classroom gloomily, Djemn emerged in higher spirits than when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She decided to just skip dinner and returned to her dorm, which was nearer. Once in the privacy of her room, she let a full out smile bloom on her face.

"**_What hasss you sso ssmug about, Missstress?" _**

Uraeus slithered out from under the comforter to stare at Djemn. Djemn moved to place her bag beside her trunk before stretching out on her bed.

"**_I had a fairly interesting and entertaining last lesson today. The instructor was very amusing and … motivating, one might say." _**

"**_A male inssstructor?" _**Uraeus hissed suspiciously.

"**_I thought you understood where I stand when it comes to romantic relationships, Uraeus. Besides, you need not worry. He does not seem quite fond of me."_**

"_**Why sso?"**_

"**_You understand my social position in their eyes."_** Djemn replied.

"**_Ahh…. The blood issssue."_**

Djemn made an absent acknowledging sound in her throat and petted Uraeus down the length of his body, making the reptile melt against her warmth.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

It was five-thirty in the morning and Djemn was running laps around the lake again. She had written a letter to her mother yesterday to inform her of her necessities due to the food here. Then, she had finished her Potions essay and attempted other non-curriculum spells that she had read about in her books. Now, she had some rather nasty shocks for anyone who couldn't mind their own business when it came to her possessions.

Somewhere around her fifth lap, she caught a flash of red amongst the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Wary, she slowed and stopped behind some larger trees to observe. It was the small redhead girl she had seen at the bookstore. She seemed a bit dazed and swaying on her legs as she made her way across the grounds. Of course she would; who wakes up at five in the morning and loiters outside the castle? Besides her, that is.

Djemn watched as the girl made her way closer to the Forbidden Forest. She was near the cottage of the Keeper of the Keys. The stone hut stood blurry in the dim light of the morning. Beside it, a large pumpkin patch was sprouting even larger pumpkins. But the girl was heading further some distance away to what looked like a hen-house. Some chickens were already up pecking at the dirt, attempting to scavenge any insects that may be hiding in the earth. Djemn saw the girl go still as she approached the hen-house. Then, sudden as a snake, she reached out and seized a chicken by its neck. The bird tried to squawk in alarm but the redhead held it tightly, away from her face so that it couldn't scratch her with its feet. She squeezed tighter and tighter until the chicken hung limply in her hands, lifeless. Then, she repeated the process with two more chickens, squeezing the life out of them. After she was done, she took all three carcasses and entered the Forbidden Forest. Djemn stayed silently where she was, knowing that the redhead would emerge again soon. Sure enough, after a minute or two, the small girl came out of the forest, hands free of birds. She then looked about, making sure that she had not left any evidence of her being there. Satisfied that there wasn't, she made her way back into the castle without a sound.

As she stood there watching the small girl disappear back into the building, Djemn's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She had just seen a girl_ murder_ three chickens then dump their bodies in the prohibited forest to prevent detection. All this happened during the break of dawn before everyone was awake. Well, almost everyone. This, Djemn thought morbidly, was interesting.

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is longer than any of the previous few as I was trying to make up for updating a day late. I have finally started on my homework which, unfortunately, is not done yet and will not be done anytime soon. I pray for reviews, opinions, and constructive criticism. Flames with be put out by the failed potions from the Gryffindor first years.

In this chapter, the mentioned long stripes of white flowing down behind either side of Djemn's ears look something like hair highlights. That's just to clear up any confusion as to what they really are. And I know I'm making Hermione somewhat out of character what with her slight obsession with Djemn but the story needs another person's point of view sometimes. Besides, if they're going to be friends, they must at least know each other. Oops, I just said that out loud, didn't I? Oh, well. I'm sure everyone's noticed by now that I'm making the story according to the third person's point of view in the original story. Everything remains the same except it's mostly from Djemn's perspective. But because she will not be in the merry band of the Gryffindors soon, don't expect too many similarities. I intend to change the storyline slowly as I go, so bear with me if it seems a bit boring now.

And as some fun information for my dear readers, the Bellyache Bush really does exist. I have one in my garden. Search for it online if you want to know, or rather see, how it got its name. As for the myth that it scares away snakes, it's one of those old women tales that I heard from my mother. The Javillo plant exists too! And yes, Djemn really does have a rather sick, twisted sense of humour. I don't know if anyone noticed but I had skipped the Sorting Hat song in the last chapter. I figured that if the book didn't have it, I was too lazy to make one. So, I think that's it for now. God, I was up typing this all night from 10 pm to 11 am! I need some rest. Have a nice day, everyone.


	5. 5: Be Shocked by the Black Tempest

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 5 – Be Shocked by the Black Tempest.**

Djemn had kept an eye on the little redhead since the 'bird slaughter' and had realized that she was another first year like her. A Gryffindor first year. And when she thought about it, she remembered hearing Professor Snape taunt the girl about her family when Djemn was inserting the Queen Bee stings into her De-fevering Potion. Unhappy with herself at her lapse of inattention, Djemn became closely observant of the small girl. Partly because of curiosity and partly, for caution. She didn't want to be caught unaware when the girl flipped. This also meant that she became much more aware of the girl's brother, the redhead boy who had gotten the Howler, and his two best friends, the black-haired boy and the bushy-haired girl who were all second years.

A few days had passed since the incident and the girl, Ginny Weasley, had not returned to the hen-house. Djemn had often caught her staring into space or dozing off like she was always tired. Her brother, Ronald Weasley, didn't seem to notice anything wrong with her as they rarely spoke during meals and Djemn wasn't sure how much they interacted with each other in their common room. By Friday, Djemn had decided to classify her observation job as a long term project and instead shifted her main focus back to everyday school life.

On Wednesday, the Slytherin first years had had their first flying class with Madam Hooch. Djemn had felt a sense of familiarity with the strict, sharp instructor. She reminded her so much of St.Bastian that Djemn had felt a short tug of school-sickness. It didn't help that Hogwarts had still not given her a very good impression. She had much to say about the students' behavior and the overall discipline which she finds quite lacking. The classes were fine by themselves but not outstanding enough. All in all, Hogwarts was pretty much a normal boarding school, excluding the magic part. St.Bastian would make it pale in comparison when it came to discipline, order, and curriculum. But Djemn was not at St.Bastian anymore; she was at Hogwarts, where she chose to be. Therefore, her plan needed to work.

The flying class was simple. Madam Hooch had taught them how to make their brooms jump into their hands, how to mount and hover, and how to steer. They haven't done much flying at all as most of the students couldn't get their brooms to stay straight. So, they went through most of the basics and theories of flying a broom. And also, the sport of Quidditch.

Djemn wasn't much keen on the sport. Who wanted to fly on a broom and chase after balls? Yes, it's passable as a hobby but as a school sport? The students could very well break their neck if they fell! Or spine. Sure, there was magic. But what if the boy or girl died before help could arrive? Who would be responsible? Djemn was sure that the Hogwarts brochure did not mention 'possibility of death by fall from broomstick'. It was a deadly sport, one that Djemn did not need to participate in, thankfully. But she still didn't understand the logic behind it. Flying a broom as a means of transport was practical and useful but using it to play a fatal game with bludgeoning balls and other players who had no qualms about knocking you off your broom, was not. Djemn realized that she had been in even more dangerous 'games' back at St.Bastian but that was different. St.Bastian had clearly stated that there was a very plausible possibility that some of its students might die from common practice on its grounds. Only parents who knew the risks and understood the chances sent their children there. This ridiculous sport at Hogwarts however, was nothing more than that; a sport.

Djemn finished her last lap around the lake and started a slow walk to relax her thumping heart. She took deep breaths and cleared her mind to assist in the action. It was the morning of the first Saturday and Djemn had a few plans arranged. She was going to cut short her daily work-out routine to accommodate some flying. Yes, she thought that Quidditch was ridiculous and an unnecessary risk to the students but that didn't mean she condemned flying altogether. No, she still thought flying a broom was practical if one wanted a quick escape. Therefore, she had wanted to practice a bit as she did not get the chance to so on Wednesday.

Djemn had brought her broom with her down to the lake. It laid waiting, propped up against a tree until Djemn was finally done with her exercises. Once she was ready, she took the broom in her hands as Madam Hooch had instructed her to and kicked off lightly, feeling the air shift around her as she rose a few feet to hover just above the shorter trees. She tested steering in all directions and was about to go higher when she saw some figures exit the castle. Djemn immediately lowered herself closer to the trees on reflex and examined the several figures that were now heading towards the Quidditch pitch. From what she could recognize, those were the Gryffindor Quidditch robes that she had once seen in _Hogwarts, A History_. So, the Gryffindors were going to practice…

Djemn discreetly followed them on her broom, careful to stay hidden in the shadows of the trees. She saw them all head into a side room that she presumed was the changing room. They didn't emerge after five, ten minutes and Djemn assumed that they had either fallen asleep or were having a meeting in there. Whichever, she would just have to be more careful about the height and area at which she flew. Djemn knew that she had no reason to hide from them. She didn't care about the silly house rivalry and she certainly could hold her own against a few people when it came to it. No, it was more of old habits and reflexes that made her so paranoid of everything.

Djemn practiced a few swerves, short dives, abrupt stops, loops, and the like. She was really starting to like flying a broomstick. It was much more exhilarating than her last form of transport, though that one hadn't been boring either. She was just contemplating to go higher when the Gryffindor players finally came out of the side room. She hadn't noticed before, but there were three non-player students sitting at the stands. The small mousey-haired boy she had seen when he came with the players but the two others must have arrived when she was too far away to see them. On closer inspection, she saw that it was the redhead boy, Ronald Weasley, and the bushy-haired girl, Hermione Granger. The two of them exchanged words with the black-haired boy – Harry Potter – and went to sit at the stands again. The Gryffindor team mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air.

Djemn carefully observed the team's movements as they flew a bit for warm-ups. Two of them were identical twins who looked similar to the Weasley boy. Brothers, perhaps? Three of the team were female and besides the Potter boy, there was one more player, a tall burly boy. There were some soft clicking sounds and she saw the mousey-haired boy snapping away with his camera as if there was no tomorrow. The team seemed to dislike this a bit but before any of them managed to do anything about it, several green and silver clad players marched into the pitch with their broomsticks in hand: the Slytherin Quidditch players.

Djemn watched as the tall, burly boy, presumably the Gryffindor team captain shot towards the ground, dismounted and started yelling at the Slytherin team captain. They seemed to be arguing about something while the Slytherin team waved their seven new and identical brooms in the Gryffindor team's face. Djemn quickly lost interest. More typical childish behavior. You'd think they'd mature a bit when it came to a deadly you-could-break-your-spine-and-die-if-you-fell game. Apparently not. Djemn lowered herself to the ground and dismounted her broom. She had no interest to watch a bunch of squabbling children and it was nearly time for her to go back anyway. Holding her broom in her left hand, Djemn turned to head back inside the castle when a loud "BANG!" exploded somewhere behind her.

Djemn immediately turned and dropped into a crunch with precise and practiced ease while her right hand automatically went to the right side of her waist. She nearly cussed when she realized that she had not brought her gear with her when she left for her work-out this morning. Her eyes darted about frantically, searching for the source of the sound. Seeing none, she stealthily crossed the grass and peered into the pitch. The Weasley boy was lying on the ground with his female friend slightly hysterical as she asked if he was alright. When he tried to answer though, slugs started coming out of his mouth. Seeing this, the Slytherin team howled with laughter. The Malfoy boy was banging the ground with his fist, on all fours, and some of the other members laughed so hard, they had to rely on their brooms for support as their legs definitely couldn't any longer. The Gryffindor team and friends gathered around the Weasley boy, but none of them seemed to want to touch him. In the end, only Harry and Hermione dared to pull him up by the arms and lead him out of the pitch. They were momentarily blocked by the mousey-haired boy until Harry yelled at him to "Get out of the way, Colin!"

Djemn realized that they would soon come her way and see her in plain view but at that moment, she felt that she didn't particularly care. Perhaps it was the fact that one of them was barely able to stand by himself; they were in no position to be a threat to her. So she stood there, by the entrance to the Quidditch pitch, as they walked by her. Both Harry and Hermione seemed to paused slightly at seeing her there, wearing identical looks of pure surprise on their faces. Djemn just stared back at them without saying anything. Then, they started moving again towards the Keeper of the Key's cottage. They had merely gotten a few steps away when Djemn suddenly remembered a spell she had read yesterday. This was the perfect situation.

"Wait!"

Both stopped to look back at her. Their friend belched yet another wave of slugs which fell onto the grass with soft splats and started to slime away. Djemn whipped out her wand and pointed it squarely on Ronald. She saw the three friends stiffen and reach for their wands. Well, Harry and Hermione did; Ronald just struggled to stay standing. But before they could train them on her, she had already waved her wand and muttered a soft incantation under her breath. When Ronald heaved again, no slugs came and he paused, then took his arms from around his friends to feel his stomach. After reassuring himself that there was indeed nothing more in there except the remnants of his breakfast, he muttered a shocked "I'm good… I'm okay."

The three friends double checked with each other then turned to stare at Djemn. Djemn could see that they didn't know what to say. Do you say 'thank you' to a student from your rival house? Even if said person just banished the slugs from your stomach? Djemn didn't really care; she was already late to return and Uraeus would be worried. She turned and started to walk away when Ronald let out a loud exclamation.

"WHOA! Is that…! No way!"

His loud and newly-returned voice attracted the attention of the two Quidditch teams who were still arguing about who gets to use the pitch for team practice that morning. They all crowded over when they saw that Ronald was no longer belching slugs.

"Ickkle Ronnie-kins, you're alright!" said one of the twins.

"Of course he is, o' brother of mine. He's our amazing slug-speaking brother!" said the other twin.

But Ronald was not listening to them. He was busy staring at the broom that Djemn held in her hand with a stupefied expression. Seeing his gaze, the rest of the players looked in the same direction and suddenly loud gasps were heard. Puzzled at the odd behavior of his friends, Harry asked if everyone was all right.

"Mate, that's a BLACK TEMPEST!" exclaimed Ronald.

"A what?" asked Harry.

Ronald stared at his best friend in disbelief. "It's just the BEST broom money and influence can buy. Professional Quidditch players use it! It's not on sale over the counter, you'd have to specially order for it to be made. There's not one broom that can beat it in terms of speed, agility, strength, and quality. It's every Quidditch player's dream come true! Where'd you get a broom like that?" He directed that last bit towards Djemn. Everyone was listening for her answer. She didn't like the way she was feeling at all.

"I do not know. Hadrian bought it for me."

"Who's Hadrian?" asked one of the female Gryffindor players.

"My bodyguard."

All of them were now staring at her weirdly. Djemn decided that she definitely didn't like the way she was feeling so she turned and tried to leave again.

"Wait! You're already here. Why don't you, you know, fly around a bit…. on your Black Tempest…"

Djemn could hear the clear desperation in Ronald's voice. He was looking at her with something akin to puppy-eyes. Djemn fought the sense of amusement that threatened to rise in her chest. But Ronald was pleading and the teams were looking interested. Djemn sighed silently. She looked down at the ebony broom in her hand. The polished surface of the handle glinted back at her in the early morning sun. If she had known that the broom would get her so much attention, she would have asked for a lesser one, but knowing Hadrian, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Then, she glanced at her right hand which still held her wand. _This_, I remember to bring, thought Djemn dryly when she recalled about her missing gear.

Djemn secured her wand and mounted her broom then kicked off gently; no point kicking off too hard and losing her balance. At first, she flew around the pitch at normal speed then increased it to race with the wind. She did three 360 degree loops one after the other and circled the gold hoops at the east end of the pitch. After a while, Djemn considered to just land and return to the castle when an interesting stunt crossed her mind. She flew high, about a hundred feet from the ground, then turned and shot vertically downwards. She pulled up just as she was about to slam into the earth and glided horizontally across the air about a metre off the ground. Djemn let herself hang sideways off her broom with her right hand griping it and her right foot curled around the handle, her left hand skimming the grass. Then, she stopped and flew back to the two teams where she landed.

"That was bloody AMAZING! Where'd you learn to fly like that? It was plain wicked!" Ronald was practically bouncing with hype. The Gryffindor team captain nodded, looking impressed.

"That last move was a Wronski Feint followed by a Starfish and Stick across the pitch. Seeker and Keeper moves together. Impressive combination."

Djemn blinked. Wronski Feint? Starfish and Stick? What in the world was that? And they had _names_ for these moves? Djemn decided that whoever who came up with such things needed to get a hobby. Or a good book. The Gryffindor players crowded around her again. They were complimenting her and telling her all sorts of things about Quidditch. With a barely visible wry smile, Djemn realized that they must have forgotten or didn't know that she was a Slytherin first year. Not that she minded; she thought the silly house rivalry among the students was ridiculous from the start anyway.

"Um, you think… Can I… you know, hold it?" asked Ronald in a small voice. Djemn didn't see why not; she didn't think he would damage it in any way if the way he was looking at her broom was any indication. He was practically worshipping it. Djemn handed the broom over to him and he held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He awed at the shiny polished surface and the evenly cut twigs at the bottom end of the broom. The other players gently, almost timidly, touched the wood with feather like caresses. While the Gryffindor team "Ooh"ed and "Aah"ed at the expensive broomstick, one Slytherin player was unhappy at the turn of events.

Draco Malfoy scowled. He had been taken away from the limelight the moment that mudblood girl came. It was supposed to be him and his team's seven new Nimbus Two Thousand and One's that should be fawned over. But his father's gracious generosity was immediately forgotten when Helesande showed up with her Black Tempest. A Black Tempest. Draco now knew that she was rich but that didn't change anything. Just because some guy decided to waste some thousands of galleons on a girl toy didn't mean that she was worth flying the broom. But he had seen her fly. He had seen the way she steered the broomstick and perform feats he was sure he himself couldn't manage. That had made him furious. She was a mudblood! Yet somehow she had managed to do better than him in something that he had been doing for years. Draco's mind fought to find rationality in the situation and only came up with one.

"She's nothing without the broom. It's all the broom's doing and nothing to do with her skills. Here, I'll show you!"

And Draco reached for the Black Tempest in Ronald's hands before the redhead could move it away. The next moment, he was sitting on his ass, on the ground, with his previously gelled hair sticking up in all directions. The tiny hairs on his body were all standing up and Draco felt what were leftover shock currents flowing through his body. He felt his left hand burn and tingle painfully but not extremely so.

"Did you have a shock?" asked Djemn while trying to wipe the smile off her face. The other students caught her pun and hollered with laughter at the Malfoy boy's misadventure with an Anti-Theft jinx. Even a few Slytherins chuckled. Draco felt his face burn with embarrassment. He jumped to his feet and marched over to Helesande, intent on putting her in her place as a Slytherin first year and a mudblood. The Gryffindors, seeing the look on his face, moved protectively around her with the older boys in front. Draco stopped just out of fist reach and opted to use another method instead.

"First years aren't allowed their own broomsticks! You'll get in trouble for this!" Draco ignored the sense of déjà vu he got when he said this and sneered at Helesande, thinking about the number of detentions that she would soon be getting from their Head of House. But his sneer disappeared immediately when he heard what she had to say.

"No, I will not. There are circumstances that will allow me to own and use a broomstick."

"You mean that they made you an exception, like Harry?" asked Ronald in surprise and awe. Djemn shook her head but didn't reply.

Draco was beyond furious. He now remembered why he felt the sense of déjà vu. The same thing had happened to Potter. Special exception to own a broomstick, special treatment, special this, special that… Was fate so sick that one wasn't enough, it had to put_ another_ person here to ruin his life?

"You'll get yours yet, mudblood!" With that Draco stormed out of the pitch. The rest of the Slytherin team followed slowly, whispering conspiratorially among themselves. The team captain was walking away with a thoughtful look on his face, something that was quite a feat considering that he was someone who can't tell the difference between breakfast and dinner.

When Malfoy had said the 'M' word again, Ronald had wanted to grab the prat and pound him into the earth. The rest of the Gryffindor team looked livid as well but luckily, Ronald's friends still had the sense to hold him back; they didn't want him sporting a black-eye or belching slugs again, even if Djemn could cure him a second time. Deciding that the arrogant, blond waste of space was not worth being angry over, Ronald went back to admiring the Black Tempest in his hands. His eyes caught a gold carving at the tip of the handle; a very intricate 'D.H.'.

"D.H. What does it stand for?"

"Djemn Helesande. That is my name."

"Oh. I'm Ron Weasley and these are……"

A round of introductions began and Djemn filed away their names and faces for later use.

"So what house are you in?" asked Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain.

"I am a Slytherin first year." replied Djemn.

There was a sudden shocked silence as the Gryffindors stood with their mouths hanging slightly open. Well, except the bushy-haired girl who seemed quite calm about the revelation. Then, there was a flurry of confusion and questions as the Gryffindors tried to make sense of the situation.

"But, you're a muggle-born. Malfoy just called you… _that_. And he didn't treat you like a housemate, he treated you like how he would treat a Gryffindor. It was horrible the way he spoke to you." said Katie Bell, one of the Gryffindor chasers.

"Yes, I am a muggle-born. Precisely why he would treat me the way he does. But I do not pay him any heed. He is not worth receiving any. Now, you must excuse me for I have to return to my dorm."

The Gryffindors finally shook themselves out of their stupor and said polite goodbyes to each other. They had been at the pitch for quite some time and they had to hurry back if they wanted any lunch at all. Oliver was walking away somewhat dejectedly when he found out that the amazing flyer they had seen was from his rival house, but he quickly bucked up and convinced himself that it was just another reason for their team to work harder this year.

Harry, Djemn, Ron, and Hermione were walking back to the castle together. Hermione was asking Djemn about the spell she had used on Ron earlier. Ron was still too mesmerized by the Black Tempest to say anything. Harry, on the other hand, was thinking about many things. The girl he had seen at Flourish and Blotts the other day was here at Hogwarts and he hadn't noticed at all. What's worse, she was a Slytherin. But Harry didn't feel like he was talking about a Slytherin when it came to her. Her actions didn't portray her as one either: she was very civil with them and had helped them on two occasions already. Furthermore, she seemed to be unbothered about the house rivalry at Hogwarts. And he was wrong about the pureblood part too. She was a muggle-born who just happened to be as rich as the purebloods. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when they entered the Entrance Hall and a stern voice rang out.

"There you are, Mr.Potter, Mr.Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking irate. She must have been searching for them for quite some time. "You will both do your detentions this evening."

"Um, what are we doing, Professor?" asked Ron.

"_You_ will be polishing the silver in the Trophy Room with Mr.Filch. And no magic, Mr.Weasley — elbow grease. And you, Mr.Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

Ron had been nervous when he asked about their detention but when Harry heard his, he was desperate. Anything but Lockhart!

"Can't I go and do the Trophy Room too?"

"Certainly not. Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you." With that, Harry thought the professor was about to leave them to agonize over their ill fate but she didn't. Instead, she was looking at Djemn with a searching gaze. Her eyes raked over Djemn's appearance and broom, lingering on the wood for only a mere second. Then, she seemed to have come to a conclusion and turned.

"Come with me, Miss Helesande."

The trio watched as Djemn gave them a polite nod of farewell and followed Professor McGonagall away without a word.

"Do you think she's in trouble? I wouldn't put it past the Malfoy git to make some sort of tale just to get back at her for that Anti-Theft jinx, even if she is his housemate." said Ron with a slightly concerned expression. Hermione thought for a moment then reasoned that it was probably something else the professor wanted.

"I don't think so. Professor Snape is her Head of House. If Malfoy really did try to get her into trouble, it would be Professor Snape who came to get her. Plus, Professor McGonagall didn't seem angry nor did she startle at the sight of the broom so I think it's something else."

Hermione was sure it was something else. Djemn Helesande was an enigma. There has never been a case of a muggle-born being sorted into Slytherin. Haflbloods were already rare in that house. A muggle-born was plain impossible. It explains why the whole house ignored her. Then, there were other things to consider too. Like her freedom to own and use a broomstick despite being a first year. Djemn had denied that she was given the same exception like Harry and the behavior of the Slytherin team had backed that. So why? Hermione shook her head. There was so much about Djemn Helesande that she didn't understand. But she intended to find out.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn was tired. Her little flying display had taken quite a bit of strength from her. It didn't help that she hadn't been eating properly due to the choices of food at Hogwarts. Energy bars can only supply her so much. When she had been talking to the Gryffindors, Djemn had felt a disturbance in her vision. She saw double figures and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears while her legs threatened to give way and make her fall backwards. She had masked it expertly then politely excused herself. Luckily, it was near lunch time and the hungry Gryffindors haven't had breakfast so were quite eager to leave themselves.

Djemn entered her room and fell onto her bed with a sigh, a satisfied smile on her face. She had had a nice talk with Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Despite her fatigue, she was very pleased that her plan was working smoothly. The change was a bit soon but it was all the better for her. Uraeus slithered out from under the comforter and hissed angrily that he had been worried when she did not return at the usual time this morning. Djemn tiredly told him of the morning's events and by the end of the conversation, the two found themselves quite pleased.

Djemn had taken a shower then stayed in her room for most of the afternoon, only emerging after dusk. She had been practicing her magic and knowledge for tomorrow, knowing that she had to be prefect. After some dinner in the Great Hall, she went to do what she had meant to before the meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore that afternoon. With a piece of parchment in her hand, Djemn began wondering around the castle, pausing once every few minutes to check her surroundings. In her hand, she held a map of Hogwarts which she had found in one of her older books. It would prove to be very useful if she ever needed anything of the sort. But first, she had to confirm that the building was indeed like how the map described. The map was after all very old.

It was nearing ten and Djemn was still outside in the corridors, checking the map. There seemed to be a passage of sorts behind a hump-backed statue of a witch but Djemn can't seem to get the statue to move. Standing there, Djemn was about to give up and return to her dorm when she heard a voice. A cold, cold voice which vibrated malice. Djemn held herself completely still and listened. It was a little too late for students to still be loitering outside common rooms and this voice sounded nothing like a human's. In fact, it wasn't.

"**_Come, come to me…. I will rip you …. I will crush you…. Let me kill you…."_**

Djemn could recognize it straight away; the distinctive hissings of a snake. This one sounded very, very hungry and it was very much in predator mode right now. Djemn concentrated harder and heard the voice coming from inside the walls! She frowned when she realized this. Were there even more passages hidden in the walls? Either way, she was not going to be a sitting, or rather, standing prey. Who knew what type of snake it was that she heard. And even though Djemn was very used to speaking and negotiating with snakes, she doubt this one would listen to her first due to its blazing hunger. Worst yet if said snake was a pit viper: standing still would be the same as screaming "Eat me! I'm right here!" at the snake.

Djemn turned and walked quickly back to her dorm. She had a mission for Uraeus. He would be delighted as he had been complaining of being bored lately.

**Author's Notes:** Stop. I have to stop. My brains are turning into slime from the radiation of the monitor. Just kidding. Though I did lose my muse halfway through typing this chapter; I think I was overly tired. Alarmed as I was, I got my muse back. Well, most of it anyway. I ask, I beg for reviews, opinions and ANY constructive criticism you may have to give. Even flames will be welcomed… on second thought, hold the flames. It would kill me if someone told me I sucked.

Anyone who owns a copy of _Quidditch Though The Ages_ can check the third last page, page 54, for the Starfish and Stick move; there is a picture drawn there. And… Actually, there's not much to explain in this chapter, is there? Well then. Have a nice day, everyone.


	6. 6: Your Mother was a Hamster

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 6 – Your Mother was a Hamster.**

Monday arrived and the day's first class for the Gryffindor second years was Potions with the Slytherins. It was the worst class of the week. Harry, though, was still slightly distracted by the voice that he had heard on Saturday night when he was in detention with Professor Lockhart. Curiously, the professor hadn't been able to hear it. Nevertheless, the chilling voice had plagued Harry for the whole of Sunday dragging on till Monday morning.

"Harry, mate, if you don't eat soon we'll be late for Potions." said Ron. Harry could hear the distaste in his voice when he mentioned the hated class. Sighing, Harry picked up his spoon and ate the pancakes in front of him. Once done, they made their way down to the dungeons with dread. Who knew what the greasy Potions Master had in store for them now. When they arrived, they were surprised to see the door to the Potions classroom open. Usually, Snape kept it locked till the last minute, as if afraid that they might damage or dirty his classroom if he were to allow them to be in there any longer than necessary. Shrugging, they entered the classroom and went to their seats. Imagine their surprise when they saw Djemn inside, reading her potions text. It wasn't just them; many of the other second years, mostly the Slytherins, were just as shocked as they were. But the first to say anything was, naturally, Draco Malfoy.

"What are _you_ doing here? This is the class for Slytherin _second years_. So you can get out now."

Malfoy sneered at Djemn while she just stared blankly back. Ron turned a light shade of pink at the nasty way Malfoy had addressed her. She was, in a way, a friendly acquaintance of his. Just then, before Ron could say anything, Snape entered the classroom and ordered them all to sit down. Malfoy immediately reported Djemn to Snape.

"Professor, there is a first year student in the class." Malfoy said, maliciously.

Snape's eyes scanned the classroom, lingering on Djemn for a moment. "There is no first year in my classroom, Mr.Malfoy." Here, Malfoy pointed at Djemn, still with the sneer on his face. But like at the Quidditch Pitch, it quickly disappeared when he heard the Professor's next words.

"Miss Helesande is, as of yesterday, a Slytherin second year. She had been skipped a year due to her advanced learning. Now, sit down."

It seemed to have pained Snape to say what he had but Harry figured he wasn't too unhappy. Djemn was after all from his house. The students struggled out of their shock and sat down. The hardest to do so was Malfoy. The poor git was still shocked that the infuriating little mudblood had somehow skipped a year at Hogwarts and became his classmate. He wiped the shocked look from his face and scowled fiercely at Djemn. Harry knew that he would try something to sabotage her soon.

"You will be brewing a Numbing Potion. This potion is highly volatile during brewing stages and therefore must be brewed with _precision and care_." Here, Snape glared at Neville who withered slightly under his stare. "Anyone who ruins this potion will receive detention. Start, now."

With that, students started moving to retrieve their ingredients and start their potion. Snape went from student to student, advising the Slytherins and insulting the Gryffindors. He leered particularly when he came near Harry and his friends. Everything went well until, twenty minutes later, Neville's potion started to boil uncontrollably. When his cauldron exploded and bright blue potion splattered everywhere, pandemonium ensued. Some of the students who got the half-done Numbing Potion on themselves lost the control of their legs and staggered backwards, knocking quills, ingredients, parchment, and other things all over the classroom. This, unfortunately, meant that even more cauldrons were knocked over. Potions splashed everywhere and the students instantly clobbered onto their stools to avoid the deadly concoctions. No one noticed, but some random green potion had splashed into Draco Malfoy's cauldron when he was too busy laughing at the unfortunate Gryffindors. His potion turned a bright vivid yellow then…

SPLAT!

And he was covered head to toe in sticky, bright yellow goo. Everything stopped and every head turned to stare at him. There was a silent pause before the whole classroom exploded with laughter. The Gryffindors were pointing at him, laughing so hard, there were tears in their eyes. Even Djemn was having difficulty holding in her chuckles. Draco's faced turned red, whether with embarrassment or anger or both, no one knew. He took out his wand and cast multiple cleaning charms on himself but even when he was clear of goo, the Gryffindors were still laughing.

"ENOUGH! Thirty points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class. Longbottom and Potter, you will stay after class to clean up this mess _without magic_ until there is not a single stain on the floor."

That managed to subdue the Gryffindors. They muttered and cursed under their breaths while trying to clean as much of their workplaces as possible so that Harry and Neville wouldn't have to stay too long in the dungeons. The Slytherins however, were having great joy in messing up even more things for them to clean. Djemn returned to her own potion with a smile on her face; she loved Potions. By the end of class, the only ones who managed to produce anything remotely resembling a Numbing Potion were Djemn, Hermione and Blaise Zabini, another Slytherin.

"Twenty points to Slytherin." said Snape after inspecting their potions.

The Gryffindors bit their tongue to not say anything. Hermione had brewed the potion successfully just like the other two but Snape had not said a thing, instead only awarding points to his own house. Angrily, they continued to clean their workplaces and those who finished hurriedly left the dungeons. No point risking more house points by staying there. Djemn went back to her seat and cleared away her potion kit. Draco Malfoy came up behind her and saw a watch resting on her table. It was an expensive looking silver and blue Swiss watch with a silver gear rotating instead of a second hand. With a malicious grin, Malfoy figured Djemn must have taken it off to prevent it from getting dirty when she brewed her potion earlier. It must have been important if she cared so much for it not to get dirtied. Thinking fast, he snatched the watch from the table, intent on taunting the girl with it. He certainly didn't expect it to have a reaction and start talking back to him…

"KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS TO YOURSELF, YOU SILLY BRAT!"

The whole room froze. Draco stared incredulously at the clockwork in his hand. The watch was yelling back at him! And in such a loud heavily French-accented voice that it caught the attention of everyone in the room. Draco shook with rage.

"You! You-… How dare you!"

"YOU DON'T FRIGHTEN ME, YOU ENGLISH PIG-DOG! GO AND BOIL YOUR BOTTOM, SON OF A SILLY PERSON! I BLOW MY NOSE AT YOU, SO-CALLED DRACO MALFOY!"

The class was once again exploding in laughter. Some of the students were shaking and crying with mirth. That included the Slytherins. Draco's face turned red once again. This time no doubt in anger AND embarrassment. It didn't occur to him that he was currently arguing with a watch. Dejmn watched in utter amusement, a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile on her face. It seemed that Malfoy will never truly learn his lesson, even after the misfortune with her Black Tempest. She had placed that charm on nearly all her possessions a few days ago in an event that someone had itchy hands. And she had heard Malfoy come up behind her even before the boy saw her watch. Djemn had _let_ Malfoy take her watch, just to teach him once again that it will not bode well for him to butt into her business.

"I'll break you to pieces!" Draco yelled at the watch.

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU NO MORE, YOU EMPTY-HEADED ANIMAL! YOU AND YOUR SILLY ENGLISH BUTTERBALLS! I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION! YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER AND YOUR FATHER SMELT OF DEAD PIGEONS! NOW PUT ME BACK OR I SHALL TAUNT YOU A_ SECOND_ TIME!"

Anyone passing outside the potions classroom would have thought that they had gotten lost. There was no way that Potions could be so fun that the whole dungeons would be ringing with laughter. Unless they were brewing Laughing Potions. Either that, or everyone had gone mad. The classroom was practically a bedlam of laughing, crying, shaking lunatics. Almost everyone was breathless and red in the face. Some were shaking so hard, one would think they were having seizures. Djemn had to hide behind her hand to not openly laugh in Malfoy's face. She was one of the better ones off, if the students rolling on the dungeon floor was any indication. Professor Snape looked constipated but Djemn could see little twitches at the corner of his mouth, translating to him actually trying to hide his mirth. Malfoy was the only one not laughing. After all, _he_ was the butt of the joke.

With a face red enough to rival Ron's hair, he slammed the watch down on Djemn's table and stormed out of the classroom with his bag. None of the Slytherins followed him; they were too busy trying to stand while laughing their lungs out.

"COME BACK AND I'LL BITE YOUR LEGS OFF, YOU YELLOW CLOWN!"

After ten minutes or so, order finally returned and the Gryffindors hurriedly left. It was too much of a risk to stay now. Snape might just snap and give them all detention just for the heck of it. They were not aware that said professor was actually still trying to hide his laughter. But Djemn was, so she took her time to clear her table, put on her watch and secure her bag. Just as she about to leave, Professor Snape stopped her.

"Helesande, remain."

The other students, mostly Slytherins, left quickly now. They did not want to be there when their professor was in the mood for punishing. The two patiently waited till everyone, except Harry and Neville, was out the door, leaving them alone in the now silent potions classroom. The silence was deafening after the loud laughter as no one said anything for a few moments. Djemn stood perfectly still and just stared back at her professor who seemed so fond of staring contests. When he finally spoke, Djemn figured the extra time was for him to regain control over his voice after suppressing his laughter.

"That was a … very interesting form of an anti-theft spell."

"Yes, sir. I found it in a book I once read." replied Djemn.

"Be that as it is, I do not wish for my class to become a circus of laughing buffoons. See to it that it does _not_ happen again. Am I understood?"

"Understood, professor."

Professor Snape dismissed her and she left quietly, giving one last glance at Harry and Neville who had to stay and clean whatever mess that still covered the classroom floor and tables. Both gave her a weak smile; anyone who embarrassed Draco Malfoy was worth a smile. Once outside, she saw Hermione and Ronald waiting for her. Well, she wasn't sure if they were waiting for her specifically but they walked with her to their next class together, Defence Against the Dark Arts. For once, Ronald was ecstatic about what happened in Potions.

"That was bloody BRILLIANT! Where'd you learn to do that! What was that anyway? I swear, Malfoy was about to explode! Did you see his face?"

"When he took my watch, he activated an anti-theft spell I put on it." replied Djemn, casually side-stepping the first question.

"Another anti-theft spell? Malfoy sure has an affinity with those." said Ronald with a goofy grin on his face.

Hermione carefully watched Djemn as they made their way to the DADA classroom. When she had heard that Djemn had skipped a year, she had been shocked like the rest. But slowly, she became suspicious. Djemn was muggle-born which meant that she had no knowledge of magic until her Hogwarts letter. Then how could she be so well learned that she could skip a year? And how did she get the professors to even consider her? Even Hermione was not that good. Then there was the issue of her expertise with spells. Just like the time when she cured Ron with just a flick of her wand, she had managed to cast a complex anti-theft jinx to completely humiliate Malfoy in Potions class. Hermione felt herself getting frustrated that she could not figure out the mystery that was Djemn Helesande.

They entered the DADA classroom and saw that the hype from the 'Amazing French Watch' was not yet all gone. Ron smiled. Maybe Lockhart's class won't be so bad this time. Hermione frowned at the blatant inattention the class was showing. Just then, Professor Lockhart entered the class and greeted them all cheerfully. His eyes moved across the classroom, taking in everyone's face. His smile faltered slightly when he saw Djemn but otherwise remained smiling his tooth-paste advertisement smile. He frowned slightly when he saw some empty seats.

"Where are Misters Potter, Longbottom, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Miss Parkinson?"

The class erupted with giggles and laughs when he mentioned Malfoy. Seeing this only made the professor even more curious.

"Malfoy got insulted by a watch. He's probably hiding somewhere from shame."

The rest of the class agreed with Seamus. Professor Lockhart shook his head, clicking his tongue.

"The poor boy. Should have fought back. And that's what I'm here for. To teach you how to fight back against everything dangerous!" He finished with a smile which wavered when he saw the entire class laughing. He didn't understand what was so funny. Ron was howling with laughter. Between his laughs and gulps of air, only a few of his words were intelligible.

"Dangerous! ... Watch … French-speaking …. Hamster … oh, my aching … sides!"

A good five minutes passed before the class managed to calm down, during which Hermione had huffed and turned away from Ron and the rest of the class. Professor Lockhart's smile became a bit more forced after that. After Hermione explained that Harry and Neville were staying back in the dungeons to clean-up, the professor went on and started the class on some basic knowledge about Banshees.

"Now who can tell me the most favourite habitat for Banshees?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Professor Lockhart smiled and nodded at her then awarded her five points when she got the answer right. He was about to drone on about another one of his _great_ adventures where he encountered various types of Banshees when he suddenly stopped and looked very pointedly to his right. The class, confused, followed his gaze which ended with the sight of Djemn reading a book in her seat. Professor Lockhart walked over and stood in front of her desk, arms crossed, waiting to be acknowledged. Half a minute passed and Djemn still did not look up from her book. Hermione didn't know whether to feel annoyed or not. It was good that Djemn was so dedicated to reading and all but she shouldn't do it in class when the teacher was teaching. Professor Lockhart finally got fed up of waiting and called out to Djemn in a playful, sing-song voice.

"Oh, Miss Djemn. What did I say about reading in my class?"

Finally Djemn looked up from her book. She gave Professor Lockhart a blank look then returned to her reading, completely ignoring him. The class was confounded. First the talking watch, now this? What was Djemn playing at? Professor Lockhart frowned slightly then tried again.

"You know, Miss Djemn, I could take points off for your disrespect to a teacher."

Djemn looked up from her book again, this time she leveled a semi glare at Professor Lockhart which ended with her narrowing her eyes at him and him shifting uncomfortably. Hermione watched closely and thought she saw a slight change in Djemn's gaze. Professor Lockhart, on the other hand, immediately changed the subject.

"Right! Now who can tell me……"

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Blaise Zabini watched Djemn Helesande as she expertly scared off the big oaf of a teacher. His dark eyes scrutinized her every move. She was good, he knew that. The little stunt back there in Potions was not just a mean joke to humiliate Draco, but to show him that she will not be pushed around by the likes of him. She was an expert at masking her emotions and though she looked as if she didn't care about anything, she actually saw everything. Why else would she leave her watch on her table in plain view for Draco to see? Draco just wasn't sharp enough to notice that she was just as much a Slytherin as they were. It was stupid of him to think that just because she was a mudblood meant that she was not capable of crippling his hold on the Slytherin hierarchy. Yes, Blaise could tell. She was one of theirs; the same type of back-stabbing, lying snake that would do whatever they had to in order to survive. She knew about the games of power and influence. The question is, what will she do about it? So far, she's already made Draco seem less in the eyes of his peers. What will she do next to make herself even more powerful in the snake lair? Blaise could not predict her next exploitation but he knew one thing for sure: Slytherin was going to see a major shift in influence and he had better be careful of where he treaded.

DADA ended without any mishaps after that and the students rushed out to head towards lunch. Hermione started to walk over to Djemn to have a word with her concerning her behavior towards a teacher. In her mind, it didn't quite register that Djemn was a Slytherin. However, before she managed to reach her, Djemn had already left the classroom. Hermione huffed, frustrated, then left with Ron to go to the Great Hall, hoping that Harry was already free from the dungeons.

Blaise watched Djemn leave the classroom and followed as discreetly as he could, moving with the many people in the corridors. He knew that one wrong move was all it took to blow his cover. He knew it as he knew his kin when he saw them. What he wasn't prepared to see though, was Draco, Gregory, Vincent, and Pansy heading straight for Djemn. Idiots! Blaise wanted to shout at Draco. Didn't he understand yet? The best way to remedy the situation was to regroup and think of a way to squash Djemn before she did too much damage. At the rate things were, Draco's humiliation by Djemn's talking watch would already be the hottest topic in the school by tomorrow morning. And now, by presenting himself to Djemn, he was practically _giving_ her another chance to further weaken his image. Blaise hung back and watched the interaction between the five. Draco was his best friend since childhood but self-preservation was always the most important. If Draco couldn't keep his place in the Slytherin hierarchy, then Blaise will have to make a few changes in his life. This was the perfect chance to see how he should play his cards in the future.

The four Slytherins stopped right in front of Djemn, blocking her way to the Great Hall. They sneered at her but she just stared blankly back like she always does. When she tried to move past them, they shifted to obstruct her passage. Finally, she stood back, took a firm position and addressed them in a cold voice.

"Please move aside. You are in my way."

"You filthy little mudblood. Thought you could get away with your little stunt now, did you?" Blaise wanted to slap his forehead at the classic bully line. Could Draco think of no other thing to say? Had these two years done _nothing_ to teach him? As predicted, Djemn wasn't bothered at all and just frowned slightly.

"I do not understand." Blaise listened raptly. Was she faking innocence or… "I have been neither punished nor lectured. Everyone is happy and Professor Snape is certainly not cross with me." Here, she looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she gave what was a light smirk at the foursome. "Yes, I would definitely say that, of course I got away with it."

Draco's face grew pink and he opened his mouth to, no doubt, say something nasty to Djemn when she suddenly brushed past them at their lapse of anger. Before she got far, Pansy reached out to turn her back by her shoulder.

"Hey, we're talking to you! You don't go until we say you go—"

What happened after that was all a blur to Blaise. One second, Pansy was griping Djemn's shoulder and the next, there was a

WHAM!

…. And Pansy was lying on her back, on the floor, moaning. The three others froze and just stood there as Djemn leaned closer to Pansy and whispered in a deadly calm and icy voice.

"NEVER touch me without my permission. Or I will personally make sure younever touch anything _again_." Then she released Pansy's arm which she was still holding and without a backward glance, left towards the Great Hall. Draco managed to unfreeze himself to check on Pansy. She was moaning and crying with pain. Her wrist had a nasty bruise on it and she was in so much pain from the impact with the floor that Gregory had to help her walk to the infirmary. Blaise pieced together the pieces and surmised that Djemn had grabbed Pansy's wrist then flung her over her shoulder to the floor. Just thinking about the act itself, Blaise could tell that Pansy was in a lot of pain right now. So, Djemn was not only lip and brains, she had the brute strength and skill to back her up should anything similar to a confrontation arose. Thinking hard, Blaise was starting to see his cards now…

**Author's Notes:** I am so HAPPY that someone else finally reviewed my story! YAY! deep breath Okay. Now there's some good news and some bad news for you all. Updates will no longer be daily now as I've gotten back to school and there is only a week more before the start of my trials. I don't know how much I can write during that time but I will try my best to update whenever I can. The good news is, we're finally getting somewhere. Not that it's very good news now that I'm slowing down, eh? One more thing: I was typing this with a not-very-clear head so if there's anything not making sense or if you have any questions, feel free to ask in your reviews.

In this chapter, Djemn was skipped a year but the explanation as to how this happened will not come till some chapters away. And the dialogue(insults) by Djemn's watch was actually a modified version from Monty Python, The Quest for the Holy Grail.

To begumfarah99: Actually I feel that the story is moving a bit slow too. laughs But I'm going to move it faster now so hopefully it gets better. I'm glad to know you like Djemn; I was afraid the readers might hate her. Thanks for reviewing!

To Elithiel: I hope you like this chapter as it has more dialogue than any of the others. I will try to put more in the story as my friends have said the same thing. And you are right about Djemn; there are some reasons for her to be the way she is. I will keep your advice about ANs to heart. Thank you for reviewing!

To Nadz: To hear that my story sounds like my essays I write in school….. I don't know what to say. But it was really nice of you to review. About the perfect part, I guess I _am_ trying to portray Djemn as a bit too perfect but she has her flaws; you just need to wait and read. Though from now on, there will more on other characters as well. Thanks again for reviewing!

Have a nice day, everyone.


	7. 7: Of Spiders, Glocks and Cats

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 7 – Of Spiders, Glocks and Cats.**

"_**Sstupid humansss!"**_

Uraeus was not a happy snake as it slithered away as fast as it could to a nearby suit of armor to avoid being trampled on. From his temporary hiding place, he glared at the group of Hufflepuff first years that were walking by him, talking and giggling about something they read in some gossip magazine. He bristled slightly when he thought of the number of times he was nearly stepped on today.

"_**Fourteen! Fourteen timesss! You would think that, having legsss, humanss would watch where they were walking!" **_

Of course, Uraeus had not forgotten about the fact that he was disillusioned and nearly invisible in order to avoid detection. Precisely _because_ of that, the chances of him being stepped on had tripled. Uraeus sometimes half-wished that he was still visible even if that meant that he would be more easily discovered; he was a small snake and it certainly beats being turned into snake-pancake.

Sighing with resignation, Uraeus continued his search again. It had been a little more than a month since his mistress had given him his little mission. She told him to start his search from the lower floors as she had a feeling that whatever snake they would find would not be too high up in the castle. And thus, Uraeus had foraged every corner, every bend, every staircase, and every room of every floor since the dungeons. So far, he had found nothing. Not even a dead cockroach or a lost shoe of some mindless student. Excluding the times when he was nearly trampled, nothing interesting ever happened. After the first few days, statues and suits of armors became his best friends as temporary hiding places. That and Uraeus had found the humans at Hogwarts absolutely dull and boring.

As Uraeus continued to sniff and explore every nook and cranny, his mind absently registered that it was the last period of classes for the day. He would need to retire from his search soon to meet with his mistress at the appointed place. Every morning, Djemn would cast a disillusionment charm on him then let him out of the Slytherin dormitory when she left for her classes. Uraeus would then spend the day scouring the castle before meeting up with her at the library after dinner. Once they were back in their room, Uraeus would report his findings. Usually that meant telling his mistress that Hogwarts was a right tedious and uninteresting place.

Uraeus was about to turn a corner when he saw it. A big, fat, _juicy_ black spider. As his eyes locked onto the eight-legged life form, the spider must have seen him too as it started to scramble away hastily for dear life. Mission momentarily forgotten, Uraeus gave chase. He had had nothing to eat but crickets for the past few weeks and although they were a favourite food of his, the flavour gets old after a while. This little munchkin would be a very welcomed snack.

The spider scuttled away like the devil itself was after its hide but it was still nowhere as fast as a hungry snake. With one giant gulp, Uraeus swallowed the poor insect. He lay there a moment, satisfied with himself when he sniffed something nice. A lot of 'something nice'. He looked further down the corridor and saw, to his utter delight, a whole colony of spiders crawling across the floor and up a wall to a window. With as much speed as he could muster, Uraeus shot towards the window and started to feast on as many spiders as he could. After fifteen or so, the insectivore decided that if he ate any more, he would burst.

As Uraeus lay there, feeling the little buggers move along his intestinal track, his mind presented him something to think about. Before he started devouring the spiders, he had seen them move rather oddly in a straight line towards the window then exiting as quickly as they could through a small crack in the glass. It was strange behavior for spiders and Uraeus would know; he had hunted and eaten them for a year now. Uraeus looked back towards the window. There was not a spider in sight anymore as all had scattered away when he started to gorge on their kin. Nevertheless, he was still confused by what he saw. It was, by far, the most interesting thing to happen during his search in this castle as far as he was concerned.

Uraeus sniffed the air carefully. There was dampness, indicating water, and … something else. Looking around, he spotted an old door with the words 'Girls' Bathroom' on it. Uraeus had long ago understood the language of humans. It was hard not to when he spent so much time with his mistress at the manor. Sometimes he even read with her when he was bored or particularly interested in the book. Cautiously, Uraeus moved closer to the door and pushed with all his weight. The worn-out door became slightly ajar, just enough for him to pass through.

Inside was a place he would not like to visit again unless necessary; it was the most rotten bathroom he had ever seen. There was only one dirty mirror above a row of disfigured stone sinks lining one wall. The cubicles had aged wooden doors that looked like they would fall off at any moment. One of them was already hanging by the hinges. The bathroom was wet, cold and dark; a combination that didn't mix well with neither Uraeus nor his mistress. Doing his best to ignore the worse parts of the place, Uraeus set out to find the source of the weird smell he had caught outside.

He slithered silently pass the cubicles, stopping at the last one when he saw a silvery shadow. A ghost, his mind registered. She was a stubby thing, and at that particular moment was crying her eyes out while her head rested on a toilet seat. Uraeus didn't really care what she was crying about so long as she didn't see him and didn't obstruct his search. Leaving the cubicles, he moved over to the sinks and sniffed harder. The smell was definitely coming from this area, but as Uraeus looked around, he could see nothing that looked out of place in that bathroom. There was nothing there. Then, what was that smell and where was it coming from?

Annoyed, Uraeus tried to identify the scent. With a start, he realized that the smell was that of a snake's, albeit one that he had never smelt of during all his time in Egypt. A bubble of excitement welled up in him as he searched harder for any possible hiding places near the sinks. He could find none. Then, he remembered that his mistress had said something about hearing the snake from inside the walls. Uraeus moved to push against the walls for any secret knobs or movable stones but again found nothing. He wanted to hiss in frustration but remembered about the crying ghost in the last cubicle.

Dejected that he couldn't find anything else, he gave one last survey around the bathroom before slithering out to meet with his mistress. He finally had something interesting to tell her.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Blaise and Theodore walked down the cold dungeon hallways back to their dorm. Nothing was said between them as they entered the Slytherin common room and finally reached the privacy of their dorm. Blaise sat down on his bed while Theodore went to retrieve something from his trunk.

"Alright, Theo. What is it that you wish to speak to me about?"

Theodore sat down with a serious expression on his face and paused a moment before launching into his explanation.

"Blaise, you are aware of the changes happening in Slytherin?"

Blaise nodded. He understood that Theodore meant the subtle manipulations that were being carried out by Djemn Helesande. She had barely been in the snake house for a month and already the Slytherin first years were idolizing her. Her cool and uncaring exterior had made even the older years interested to find out who she was. Her only obstacle to the top, which was her mudblood heritage, was overshadowed by her excel in studies and her aloof attitude that was not unbefitting of a pureblood. It didn't help that she was continually embarrassing Draco and making him seem less, be it in the snake house or in front of the entire school. Draco, on the other hand, could do little about it as he still remembered about their little confrontation that day in the hallways and the pain Pansy had to be in for a few days after that. Whatever prank or embarrassing situation he planned to involve her in had either been foiled or backfired onto himself. After a few tries, he sensibly decided to do nothing until he could think of something fool-proof.

Blaise, being Blaise, had wisely stayed out of the fight for power between the two. He preferred to stay in the shadows and watch the whole ordeal unfold by itself until he was needed to make a decision, collecting whatever information he could along the way. Right now, it definitely didn't look very well on Draco's part, though Helesande had been lucky that no teacher or student had been passing by when she took out Pansy that day. Blaise had a feeling that Helesande only did what she did because she was well aware that she would not get in trouble for it.

"I have taken the liberty to find out more about Helesande but could come up with nothing for the first few days. Then I overheard her talking to Potter and company last week during Defence Against the Dark Arts. She said she was previously from a school called Saint Bastian. I have an acquaintance there whom I asked for this information." said Theodore, showing Blaise the envelope in his hand.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. An acquaintance? Theodore doesn't have any muggle acquaintances! Blaise thought fast and came to the conclusion that Theodore probably didn't want to expose the origins of his source. But it was a poor excuse. One that would be seen through immediately by anyone who knew the Nott family. Blaise tilted his head sideways and gave a meaningful look to Theodore who frowned back at him. Understanding that that meant "Drop it.", Blaise did so and motioned for Theodore to continue with his explanation.

Theodore had known that his excuse would not fool anyone but he had only planned to tell Blaise or, maybe, Draco, so there was not much need to create some sort of elaborate lie to cover his tracks. They couldn't find out about his source even they did try anyway; Nott family secrets were tightly guarded and this one was among the most hazardous to them if the public caught wind of it. Unbeknownst to the wizarding world, Catalina Calantine, Lord Nott's wife, Theodore's mother, had a younger sister who married a muggle viscount. The Calantine family had cut all ties with her since then and her history was destroyed from all the family's records as she was the biggest disgrace to them. But even the prospect of being publicly humiliated could not destroy the sisterhood between Catalina and Nerye Calantine. Theodore had known about his aunt and squib cousin from his mother and they had been secretly meeting without the knowledge of his father or the Calantine family since Theodore was four. His friendship with his cousin, Cy Sinclair, made it much harder for Theodore to pretend like the bigoted pureblood his father and the public expected him to be. But the wizarding world didn't have to know about his secret, so he would continue to pretend for as long as it takes.

"It seems that Saint Bastian is a semi-military school for the children of rich muggle aristocrats or anyone with enough money and power to get in. Helesande's father is one of the founders and board directors there." said Theodore, opening the letter. "What's interesting to note, is that Helesande had been attending the school for a few years already. By right, she should only be enrolled, earliest, by this year as the school only accepts students above the age of eleven – No doubt, her father had something to do with that. My acquaintance also managed to get me a rough list of her accomplishments while at the school. Blaise, she was a star student with a reputation, both good and bad."

Here, Theodore paused, the warning his cousin gave him still clear as air in his head. "She has never been known to lose a fight. All her rivals have either became allies or disappeared from the school within a year. The school was as much under her thumb as it was under her father's, Blaise."

Blaise looked thoughtful. A semi-military school? That would explain how she managed to throw Pansy over her shoulder with such practiced ease. With this little bit of information, Blaise now understood where Helesande's standoffish attitude came from and why she was trying to do what she was doing to the snake house; she was trying to repeat what she had done in her old school and put Slytherin, maybe even Hogwarts, under her control.

"There was also a warning enclosed within the letter. My acquaintance asks us not to meddle with the Helesande family as the results will be unpleasant." continued Theodore.

Blaise felt his eyebrows rise. Was the Helesande family that influential in the muggle world? Blaise tried to reach for the letter to read it for himself but Theodore casually moved it out of his grasp then folded it and put it away in his trunk. Blaise wasn't too bothered by his friend's actions but he was still somewhat curious about the exact wording of the letter. Theodore seemed a bit disturbed by what he had read in it. He was trying to hide it but Blaise could see still it. That itself spoke volumes about how unsettling the information about Helesande must have been.

Blaise leaned back on his bed and wondered about the uncertain future of the Slytherin hierarchy. Helesande was doing a good job dismantling it so far but if she thought that overtaking the snake house was anything easy, then she's in for surprises. Snakes were self-preservative, yes, but if pushed too hard, they turn around and bite.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn put the sixth ingredient, three teaspoons of Armadillo Bile, into her potion and stirred anti-clockwise ten times before changing to clockwise for seven times. She double-checked with her manual then left the potion to simmer for fifteen minutes, setting her timer to ring when the time was up. She then sat down on her bed to contemplate about the recent happenings at Hogwarts.

October had arrived and so had the rain. The castle was constantly cold and wet, to Djemn's utter annoyance and discomfort. She had resolved to using warming charms on herself and brewing her own warming potions. Her room had been spelled to remain at a preferable temperature and even then, Djemn had taken to wearing thicker clothing. She refused to appear anything but perfect and in her element when in front of others. To do otherwise would be to show weakness and weaknesses allow others to exploit you. She, of all people, understood that the most.

The first month of school was over and her plan was moving along fine. The Slytherins were showing her a bit of respect now and her studies were not at all demanding though the teachers were a different case. Both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were watching her like hawks. It was as if they expected her to just suddenly do something dangerous. Djemn didn't blame them a bit as they were right; she could and she would, if the situation had need for it.

Djemn glanced about her room. She quite liked what she did to the extra furniture. The extra wardrobe had been transfigured into a table and cabinets for storage while the desk had been turned into a book shelf. The bed was the hardest but the most accomplished one as she had transfigured it to become a nicer replica of her potions workplace. The bed sheets became a thin screen that separated her new potions workplace from her bed. Now, she could brew whatever potions she wanted without being asked suspicious questions by the Potions Master. It was what she found herself doing whenever she wasn't reading or doing research. Chemistry had always been one of her strong points back at .

Her timer went off and Djemn returned to her potion, stirring in twenty Fly-Poison leaves. Her mind went back to the very pleasing news that Uraeus had brought her two weeks ago. Seems her little familiar had found the supposed entrance or exit of the snake that she had heard in the walls during the first week of school. She had not had the time or convenience to pay a visit to that bathroom but it was only a matter of time now before she found out what type of snake it was that lurked inside Hogwarts' walls. Friday night next week was the Halloween Feast and Djemn was going nowhere near the Great Hall after the horror that was the Welcoming Feast. No, she would instead be on the second floor, in the girls' bathroom.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn moved along the second floor corridors quickly and quietly. She wasn't sure if everyone was at the feast but it would do well enough that most of them were. She was careful to move stealthily but casual enough to avoid suspicion if she was seen. If it came to that, she'll just explain that she was heading towards the bathroom, which was the actual truth. When she came to said place, she listened carefully for movements inside and hearing none, opened the door and entered.

Djemn scanned the bathroom quietly. Uraeus had not been lying when he said that it was the most horrid place he had seen at Hogwarts thus far. It really was just that. Not bothering to admire the thickness of the mold that grew on the wooden doors of the cubicles, Djemn searched the whole bathroom but saw no sign of the ghost Uraeus had mentioned. Perhaps she was out? Deciding that it was all the better for her, Djemn went towards the sinks and started to check on everything she could see. She had left Uraeus back in her room as it was still not safe enough for him to be with her in public. The risk of him being found out would be higher than when he went out foraging by himself. However, she began to rethink her decision after searching for fifteen minutes with no result.

Djemn let out a sigh and looked harder in the dim light by the few candles in the bathroom. She was about to give up and leave when she saw the tap. It was a normal copper tap like all the rest but this one had a tiny snake etched onto it; a snake so small that she had missed it the first time. She squinted at it, thinking hard. Then it hit her. Bathroom – sink – voices inside walls – entrance – the plumbing! Djemn's head snapped back to the sink and she placed her hands on either side of it. She tugged and pushed until she could feel her muscles straining but it didn't budge one bit. Djemn released the stone and took a few breaths to calm herself. She was bewildered; she practiced lifting some light weights back at the manor. Along with her training and all, her raw strength wasn't little at all. If the sink wouldn't move after she put her all into it, that meant that the entrance was to be opened by another way.

Djemn stood there, contemplating about the various methods she could use to reveal the entrance when the tap started to spin and a bright white light was emitted from the sink. Said sink then sank back into the wall, leaving a large hole in its place. It was a pipe, Djemn realized. So her guess had been correct. But before she could think any further than that, she heard a rough rustling sound coming from inside the hole. It came closer and louder, no doubt coming towards Djemn.

As the sound continued to move towards her, Djemn felt something she had never felt before – unexplained fear. It consumed her body, and her heart began to pound in her chest. All the hairs in her skin stood on end and her hands began to get clammy. Her eyes grew wide as her mind reeled and tried to make sense of what was happening to her physique while her gut screamed for her to flee. When the sound came close enough to be merely metres away from her, Djemn gave into instinct, turned and ran out of the bathroom. She ran like the time she was being chased by the rabid Dobermans that had gotten loose from their kennels in . Her footsteps were light and fast as she skidded across the floor.

Djemn only stopped running when she was three corridors away from the bathroom. She hid in the shadow of a large broom cupboard and tried to calm her erratic breathing. Her mind was in jumbles. This kind of behavior was unexplainable to her. She had faced much, much worse than a dark hole in a wall with a snake in it. She had fought mock-wars without breaking a sweat and here she was, panting after a short run from a bathroom. It was preposterous. Closing her eyes and forcing herself to calm down, Djemn's hand unconsciously reached for the Glock strapped to the right side of her waist. The feel of the cool plastic relaxed her significantly as order slowly came back to her mind and body. After another minute or two, she came out from behind the cupboard and went back the way she came. In her mind, there was nothing that can't be killed by a bullet in the head or a clean cut to the neck. If anything remotely dangerous came at her, that's precisely what it will get.

Glock in hand, she reentered the bathroom with caution. Whatever it was that was coming out of the pipe was not there anymore as the bathroom was once again silent as a graveyard. The sink was back in its place and not a movement was evident. Djemn waited a few more moments then finally retreated to wait outside the bathroom. What came out, had to go back in and she'll be here, ready and waiting, when it returned.

Djemn cast a disillusionment charm on herself as she took a place at a dark corner and waited. Hopefully, the snake would return before the end of the feast. It would be most inappropriate for a large snake to be found wondering around the school. Ten minutes later, a female ghost, wailing shrilly, shot through the corridor and into the bathroom, not even bothering to go through the door; she just passed through the stone wall. Djemn watched in silence. That must have been the crying ghost Uraeus had told her about. Well, she certainly was crying and Djemn could still hear her crying from inside the bathroom. Soon, the floor began to become flooded as water spilled out from under the bathroom door. The crying gradually became softer and silence came back after a while. Djemn continued to wait with patience.

Soft footsteps and she heard someone coming. Djemn frowned. She had expected some_thing_ not some_one_. Was the feast over so soon? It could not be as the footsteps definitely represent only one person. Djemn kept silent as the person approached. When said person was close enough, Djemn felt her eyebrows rise slightly as she recognized Ginny Weasley. The small girl had only returned to the hen-house once more since Djemn started watching her and had only succeeded in strangling two more chickens. After that, Djemn had not seen her near the hen-house again. She figured that the Weasley girl was just one ill person who needed to kill some chickens every once in a while for one odd reason or another. Djemn didn't really see a need to report her or speak to her about her fetish; it was really none of her business.

Now, as Djemn watched, Ginny started to paint words onto the wall outside the bathroom with shimmering silver paint. The words were capitalized and a foot long each. Ginny worked with robotic, precise movements, not stopping until the whole message was on the wall. Djemn watched in fascination as the words

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

glinted in the dim light cast by the lit torches along the corridor. She continued to watch silently as Ginny bent down to retrieve something she left on the floor and hang it from one of the torches. Then she turned and left the area.

Djemn felt her eyes widen as she identified the thing hanging from the torch. What had seemed to be some sort of stuffed animal at first was, in reality, , the Hogwarts' care taker's cat. The feline looked stone hard and was not moving. She didn't even look breathing as her wide yellow eyes stared unblinkingly ahead of her. From her position hanging by her tail from the torch, she didn't look very alive at all to Djemn.

Djemn stood in her dark corner, not moving. She was almost absolutely certain that there was nothing she could do for the cat now so there was no point in her taking the feline down from where it hung. That decided, her mind went to ponder about the significance of the message on the wall. The Chamber of Secrets? The name was vaguely familiar to Djemn and she was sure that she'd read it in one of her books. When she could not recall, she filed it away as her primary research subject once she got back to her dorm.

A few more minutes passed and Djemn wasn't sure if she should stay or leave. Time was running out and the feast was bound to be over soon. The snake had not yet returned from wherever it was but this area was definitely one that was not safe. Plus, it would not look good at all if Djemn were to be found at the scene of a dead cat hanging from a wall. She didn't get to decide, however, when she once again heard the cold, vicious voice she had heard so long ago at the hump-backed statue of a witch.

"_**I ssmell blood…… I SSSMELL BLOOD!"**_

It came from inside the walls again. Djemn somehow immediately knew that the voice belonged to the thing that had made the rustling sound when it was coming at her from inside the hole. She felt panic threatening to rise in her again but she squashed the feeling as soon as it came. Then another thought hit her. How had the snake gotten back into the walls? It certainly didn't use the sink in the bathroom as it didn't pass by Djemn. That meant that there was another entrance somewhere in the castle.

"It's going to kill someone!"

Djemn raised her head sharply when she heard the shout. It was a familiar voice – Harry. She heard fast, loud footsteps and watched as Harry, Ronald and Hermione skidded around the corner and came into view. Hermione gave a loud exclamation and pointed towards the glittering words. Slowly, they began to move closer.

Djemn's mind was working overtime. She had only been mildly surprised that they were there instead of at the deathday party that they told her they would be attending in place of the feast. But she had been right shocked when her mind registered what Harry had said. He had yelled that the snake was about to kill somebody and the only way he could have said that was that if he understood what the snake had said; which meant that he could understand the snake language. Djemn's mind was a flurry of wild thoughts as she realized that she had found another parselmouth. She had read about her ability in her books and discovered that it was indeed a wise choice to keep it hidden. It was a rare and supposed _dark_ ability that only dark wizards had. A load of cow manure if Djemn ever read some. Just because someone was born with an uncommon ability to talk to a particular animal does not make them dark.

Djemn continued to watch silently as they trio read the message, saw the cat and realized that they shouldn't be there. Before they managed to leave though, the feast ended and waves of students thundered up the stairs and into the corridors. The three were trapped between two large groups of people coming from both sides. When the students arrived at the scene, they stood there, frozen, as a hush fell on all the students at the sight of the glittering words and dead cat.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Djemn turned her head towards the voice and saw Draco Malfoy, a malicious grin on his face. She frowned slightly. If _he_ was saying it, then The Chamber of Secrets definitely had something to do with the house of Slytherin. Before she got any further with her thoughts, the care taker came shouldering his way through the crowd of students. When he saw his cat hanging from the torch, he shrieked in horror then started screeching at Harry, accusing him of murdering his cat and threatening to kill Harry. Djemn felt her eyebrow tick; she hated it when people started spewing accusations without sufficient proof. Not a moment later, Headmaster Dumbledore arrived. He took the cat from the wall and ordered the trio plus care taker to follow him. Professor Lockhart offered his office for use then he, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall hurried along after the headmaster. The silent students were left alone to further confuse themselves about what they had seen.

Decided, Djemn carefully weaved her way through the students and followed the headmaster's trail. She stopped outside Professor Lockhart's office and crouched near the door, listening to the conversation happening inside. Professor Lockhart was sprouting all sorts of hypotheses about what had happened to the cat. No one else spoke for a few moments and Djemn had a rather knowing feeling that everyone was ignoring the rambling professor. Finally, Djemn heard the headmaster say that the cat was not dead but only petrified. The care taker then started to accuse Harry again and a short disagreement ensued between Filch, the care taker, Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry, and Professor Snape before it ended with a nasty suggestion by the professor that Harry be suspended from Quidditch until he told what had really happened at the corridor that night. Professor McGonagall then told Professor Snape that the punishment was inappropriate as the cat was not 'hit over the head with a broomstick'. Filch argued to see some punishment and the headmaster patiently told him that his cat would be healed as soon as Professor Sprout's Mandrakes reached their full size. Here, Professor Lockhart offered to brew the potions only to be cut off abruptly by Professor Snape, stating that_ he_ was the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Silence followed after that.

Djemn felt a smile tug on her lips. It was her Head of House's triumph over the obnoxious, useless professor. She knew there was a reason for him being her favourite teacher at Hogwarts. Her attention was returned to that of the occupants inside the office when she heard the headmaster tell the trio that it was alright for them to leave. Djemn quickly moved out of the doorway as it opened to reveal the three Gryffindors. They hurriedly rushed away and Djemn nearly followed them but thought against it. She remained outside the office and listened for anything else that might be important. All she heard was the professors talking about the petrified cat and what they should do to calm the students. After a while, they all left in their separate ways and disappeared down the corridors. Djemn followed their example and started towards her own dorm with a determined pace. She had_ so much_ to think about.

**Author's Notes:** Oh, God. I was typing this the whole day that I was supposed to be studying for my trials. At first, it started as the excuse that I refused to work until I had eaten as my parents had not yet returned from shopping with the food. After that, I just couldn't stop. I really need to get a better hold of myself. Anyways, this will be the LAST chapter before my trials. I just can't risk it anymore. So, I hope you all will bear with me for about three weeks or so until I return. And just for notice, I edited the previous chapters to have the 'DH' scene breakers. Someone told me that I needed them quite badly and I agreed with her. I initially wanted to put 'HM' but that reminded me of 'Headmistress' and I have a bad history with those so I ended up with 'DH' instead.

In this chapter, I can't help but feel that Djemn was being Out Of Character! (even though she is my own original character) I know that she was OOC in the last chapter since I've asked some of my readers and they agreed. But I don't know; maybe I'm just tired and stressed. There is nearly no dialogue in this chapter as, face it, there isn't much to say. And I know that there are some things here that are probably not too clear or don't make sense but it's past 1 am and I am dead tired so if you have any questions, feel free to ask them in your reviews. They will be much appreciated. The reviews, that is. Have a nice day, everyone.


	8. 8: Hello, Speaker of the Noble Language

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 8 – Hello, Speaker of the Noble Language.**

Djemn stared at the paper in her hand with a satisfied look on her face. It was all there. The secrets of The Chamber of Secrets, bare and exposed in a mere few pages of paper. Three days was all it took for her to compile a whole history of its creation, creator, legend, and mystery. It was so simple and everyone was making such a big fuss over it. So Salazar Slytherin had created a secret chamber of sorts to store some enormous beast that will do his dirty work and 'purge' Hogwarts of all who were, according to his eyes, unfit to study magic at Hogwarts. Namely, the muggle-born students. And Salazar Slytherin was famous for what? Parseltongue. It doesn't take a genius to guess that the beast mentioned would no doubt be some sort of snake. Logically, being the only parselmouth to exist once every few generations, he would be the only one able to control it.

So, a large, deadly, preferably carnivorous magical snake. Do a little research and it was quite obvious what creature it was that lurked in the chamber. A Basilisk, King of Serpents; how predictable for a Slytherin. Coupled with the strange behavior of the spiders that Uraeus had seen and the strangling of the chickens by Ginny Weasley, it made a very complete and perfect puzzle.

There was one thing though; Djemn just couldn't understand why the school authorities have not found the chamber yet, what with their magic and all. And even if magic didn't work, a full out physical search would do just as well. It hadn't taken Uraeus _that_ long to discover the bathroom. And a little reading later, Djmen now knew the way to enter the chamber so it really was a large question as to whether the authorities had wanted to find the chamber or not. Perhaps they never meant to find it at all. Or perhaps they really were just the big incompetent fools that Djemn thought them to be. But after the crisis that happened fifty years ago, she would have thought that they would have at least _tried_ to find the chamber. Apparently they didn't. And now the future generation was paying for their thoughtlessness and incompetence.

Djemn took a moment to rethink. She concluded that one of the reasons for their unfruitful search for the chamber was due to their prejudice against anything 'dark'. She admitted that most of her plausible information concerning the Chamber of Secrets had been found in her more 'darker' books that she purchased from Knockturn Alley. And these books held some of the most interesting facts as well. Such as the Confined Torture Spell. In a closed room, the victim of the spell will feel no pain nor will he bleed as his body is taken apart, slowly, piece by piece. Said victim will be forced to watch his internal and external organs detach themselves from his body. Then, when the room became no longer confined or closed, the spell will cancel itself and the victim will die a horrible, bloody death as his body resumed functions without the removed organs. Given enough time with the spell active, the victim may no longer resemble a human being but various different organs floating about the room. Depending on the situation, said detached organs may or may not be still functioning at that time.

Though it was a cruel spell used to horribly torture and finally kill someone, Djemn couldn't help but see the ways it could be used for other purposes. With a little modification, the spell could be used as a pain-numbing and blood-stopping spell during surgeries. Hell, as long as the patient was blindfolded, he could even stay awake and converse with his doctor while the surgeon removed his liver. To Djemn, it was as useful a spell as it was deadly.

Djemn's head snapped towards her bedroom door as she heard someone trying to enter her room. The door knob turned and clicked a few times as it refused to open. Djemn felt someone casting magic outside but the Locking Spell she had put on the door prevailed. In the end, the person must have gotten frustrated and left as no more tries were made. Djemn stared hard at the door. Someone had just tried to break into her room, knowing or unknowing that she was in it. While it was a futile attempt this time, it would not be wise at all to think that they would not come back and try again with more vigor. Resolved, Djemn went to her trunk and picked out a thick book: _Shield, Prevent and Foil, Your Safest Guide._

Djemn skimmed the contents till she came to a few spells that caught her eye. She spent a few minutes reading them then decided on a combination that suited her. As she set to work on the intricate wand movements, Uraeus watched his mistress work in silence. Although there were silencing spells put up to prevent their conversations from being heard outside the room, he had not hissed a thing when they both heard the would-be intruder. Rather, he was conflicted as to what he should do if the intruder had managed to break in. Should he stay and fight for the sake of his mistress? Or should he hide to prevent detection? He was without doubt that his mistress could fight off anyone who was brainless enough to enter her territory when she didn't wish it so. But there was also the issue of his responsibilities as her primary familiar. Uraeus felt uncertainty; this was the first time he had to choose between loyalty and self-preservation.

"_**What is the matter, Uraeus?"**_

Uraeus looked up at his mistress. She had paused in her wand waving to stare at him. After a moment's thought, Uraeus hesitantly started to explain his dilemma.

"_**I am uncertain, misstresss. Had the intruder broken in, sshould I have ssstayed to defend you, or sshould I have concealed mysself so asss to not be dissscovered?"**_

Djemn went silent. She looked at her pet who stared back at her with so much indecision. _**"You are not a venomous snake, Uraeus. Neither are you a large constrictor like Medusa. Your species was meant to feign death when confronted with danger. I do not expect you to do apart from your born nature. I took you as a friend and pet, not a protector. Remember that I was raised to prioritize myself before any other. I expect you to do the same. I would not think any less of you."**_

Uraeus felt a sort of pride swell in his chest. His mistress had just as plain as told him to save himself if they were ever caught in a life-or-death situation where there was possibility of them dying. Granted, her words could very well mean that she would do the same for him but even that was good enough for Uraeus. He knew where he stood now.

"_**Be that asss it may, I will not abandon the one who hatched and raissed me."**_ hissed Uraeus with determination. Djemn frowned at her pet a moment then gave him a small fond smile. She picked him up and draped him around her shoulders before resuming with her spell-casting.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

A little over a week had passed since Mrs.Norris. The school was still obsessed with the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin. Conversations were, more often than not, centred on this subject. Other than that, there were not many changes in Djemn's school life. Since the incident, she had taken an even closer watch on Ginny Weasley. The girl was a Gryffindor who, Djmen highly doubted, spoke Parseltongue. There were either more people involved with the Chamber of Secrets business or Little Ginny had some rather big secrets besides the chamber. Pun not intended on Djemn's part.

It had passed Djemn's mind at one point, after her detailed research, that perhaps she should just discreetly expose the location of the chamber and allow the school authorities to deal with the Basilisk and whatever else that came with it. But she had decided otherwise after some consideration. There were still some things that were unexplained and Djemn knew that she would not be sated until she knew everything there was to know about the chamber. Plus, it would be most silly to pass the whole mystery to the authorities now when they could not even find the chamber in the first place, fifty years ago. Who's to say that they would be just the least bit competent enough to handle the situation? And it would be a complete _waste_ if Djemn didn't manage to at least see the famed basilisk once. Her father would be most disappointed in her at the missed opportunity. But she'd have to be careful though, and not go for any eye-to-eye with the snake.

Djemn looked across the Great Hall to the small redhead that had made her life so much more interesting at Hogwarts. Indeed, if it wasn't for her, Djemn would have finished reading the entire Hogwarts library to keep herself from feeling bored. Said redhead was again looking distraught. She had been acting that way since Halloween night which caused Djemn to create many theories concerning her condition. At first, her fetish with strangling chickens could have, though improbable, been explained by a case of severe sleep-walking disorder. But when Djemn saw her paint the words on the wall then hang the petrified cat from a torch, she knew that Ginny Weasley was not sleep-walking. Though, Ginny's behavior when she was not murdering chickens or petrifying cats was a stark contrast to when Djemn saw her committing those crimes. It was as if she was not herself at all; as if she was someone else.

Djemn knew that what she saw when Ginny was with her friends may not the real Ginny at all but there was still the possibility of possession on Ginny's part. In Djemn's mind, there was simply no possible way that the redheaded Gryffindor could be Slytherin's Heir. This meant more sleuthing and another visit to the bathroom on the second floor. As she raised her goblet to her lips, Djemn absently noted that someone was staring at her from further down the Slytherin table. She didn't pay them any heed; it was bound to happen what with the frenzy about mudbloods and the Heir of Slytherin.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Pansy glared at Helesande from her place beside Draco. The wretched mudblood had the nerve to humiliate her in front of the entire Slytherin house last night when Pansy had tried to enter her room again. The blasted door had refused to open and when Pansy tried another more powerful unlocking charm, it had belched a whole load of foul-smelling, slimy, dark green Troll mucus on her. Naturally, Pansy was too horrified to do anything but scream her lungs out at the revulsion of it all. Only when the whole house had seen her in her disgrace had she remembered how to work a cleaning charm.

Pansy's eyes followed Helesande as she finished her dinner and left the Slytherin table. She nudged Draco and the two of them, plus Vincent and Gregory, trailed Helesande as the girl made her way back to the dungeons. They were careful to stay at least fifteen paces behind her. When they were a good three quarters of the way there, Pansy readied her wand. She knew that it was one of the most cowardly acts to curse someone from behind but she had managed to convince herself and Draco that Helesande deserved it. It didn't take much convincing at all as Pansy and Draco were very much inclined to make the mudblood pay for all their humiliations since the beginning of the school year. Plus, Pansy knew that, deep down in these dungeons, _they_ were still the ones with influence. No one passed through these hallways except Slytherins and any one who saw anything will not report them, lest they get into trouble with the hierarchy or caused their house to lose points.

"Helesande!"

Helesande stopped in her steps and started to turn. Before she managed to fully turn around to face the foursome, Pansy's curse was already shooting towards her. She watched as Helesande's eyes widened marginally when she saw the bright silver light racing towards her. But it was too late for her to do anything. She couldn't even reach her wand before the curse hit her square in the chest and an even brighter pale green light filled the hallway. Pansy smirked.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"Where is Miss Parkinson?"

Professor McGonagall gave her students a stern gaze. The Hufflepuff second years looked as oblivious as she felt but the Slytherins, on the other hand, had an array of reactions. Most of them looked away, some with smiles, some with solemn faces. Draco Malfoy acquired a pinkish tint to his cheeks as though flushed and both Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle looked somber. All of them said nothing.

"Mr.Malfoy?"

There was a short pause before he answered, during which the professor had raised an eyebrow at him. "She had an accident while practicing charms last night, professor. She will need to stay in the Hospital Wing for a few days to wait out the effects of the charm."

There was a tone to his voice that she did not like. Professor McGonagall leveled a strong look onto Malfoy. "What was the charm that went wrong, Mr.Malfoy?"

The Malfoy boy fidgeted under her stare. "I don't know, professor."

Don't know, indeed. As if she could be fooled so easily. Professor McGonagall could identify a lying student a mile away. Her hawk-like eyes bored into the top of the blond head as the boy refused to look up at her. No doubt, they were doing something they weren't supposed to be doing and it had gone wrong, resulting in Pansy Parkinson in the Hospital Wing. But there was no proof of it.

Minerva let the issue slide. Miss Parkinson was not a student of her house. If anything, it was Severus's responsibility to look after his charges. The professor dismissed the girl's absence and started her class.

As soon as the professor's attention was no longer on him, Draco Malfoy glared heatedly at the girl sitting in the second row from the front. He didn't know how she did it, but somehow she did it. Helesande had managed to reflect Pansy's curse back onto herself and thus caused the effects of the curse to return to its castor. He gritted his teeth as he swallowed back a nasty insult threatening to rise from his throat. He'll give her back what she caused them ten-fold. Soon.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn listened to the conversation between Professor McGonagall and Draco Malfoy with a barely visible smile on her face. Her right hand discreetly went to the thick silver bracelet on her left wrist. It was a Rorrim Bracelet; a bracelet that reflected harmful spells, charms, curses, jinxes, hexes, and whatever-not that was cast upon the wearer. The one Djemn wore could reflect up to semi-dangerous spells such as the Cutting Curse and the De-boning hex. She had found this neat little piece of jewellery at a shabby stall in Knockturn Alley. At first, it was the simple and bare design of the pure silver that had caught her eye. When enquired later, Djemn had found the piece quite useful and had gotten it for herself in case of a sneak attack, such as last night……

**EARLIER LAST NIGHT**

Pansy smirked as a bright, pale green light filled the hallway when the curse connected with Helesande. She had cast a De-hairing curse, one that would rid the victim of every strand of hair on the victim's body. She thought that it was a fitting curse to thoroughly humiliate Helesande by ridding her of her rich black locks that she seemed to be fond of along with all the other hairs on her body. Pansy smiled unpleasantly as she pictured Helesande's expression and horror at finding all her hair gone. She'll look like a freak, she thought maliciously. But she wasn't prepared for what happened next.

A pale green blast of light shot back towards her. It hit Pansy right at her stomach and she nearly toppled over. Once she regained her balance, Pansy felt a sort of draft. She also felt a bit light-headed. Her hands went to check on her limbs and found all of them intact. Then, she turned her head to look at Draco, intent on asking him if he knew what had just happened, and saw him staring at her as if she'd grown another nose. With a sinking feeling, Pansy looked down at her arms. None. Not one hair. Her heart now beating rapidly with horror in her chest, she very slowly raised her hands to her head. Her fingers met with bare scalp where her hair should have been. And that was all it took; Pansy snapped.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, echoing off the dungeon stone walls. Djemn almost winced at the high pitch that it was at. With amusement, she noted that Pansy could easily join a Banshee band if she ever felt the want to. One scream from her was all it would take to eliminate all other candidates.

Djemn had been quietly aware of the four Slytherins trailing her. It would be most shameful if she couldn't tell if people were following her after all her training. Indulgent, she had acted oblivious and went on her way as though nothing was wrong. While she certainly wasn't expecting Pansy to openly curse her behind her back, though the possibility of it was always on her mind, it didn't mean that she was unprepared for something like this to happen. Ever since the Hogwarts Express, Djemn had always worn her Rorrim Bracelet whenever she was not in her room. It proved to be a wise decision as she stared with unhidden surprise and amuse at the now hairless Pansy. Said girl looked like she wanted to die on the spot, trying to hide as much of herself as possible in her robes. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were still stuck on shock as they looked as if they didn't know what to do.

Due to Pansy's scream, Slytherins from both the upper castle and the common room were crowding around the hallway to see what had caused all the commotion. They were quite stunned to see Pansy Parkinson standing in the middle of the passage, bald, and without a single hair on her skin. Some people laughed but were quickly silenced when Malfoy glared icily at them. It seemed that the three had finally come out of their shock and were now leading Parkinson away to the Hospital Wing. Djemn watched them go without a word. It would appear that they had either forgotten about her or didn't dare point her out to spare Parkinson further embarrassment of being bested by a mudblood.

One first year timidly moved closer to Djemn. "Do you know what happened, senior?" he asked.

Djemn turned her head to look at him. It had not taken long for the first years to look up to her after her phenomenal transfer from first year to second year. While the majority of the Slytherins were still not talking to her, the first years were right itching to get to know her. And maybe it was the face that she made when they first called her 'senior', they have been calling her nothing else since. Not that she minded though. Djemn eyed the first year's name tag which read 'Gabriel Pheneas'. She took in his appearance; brunette, small, green eyes; before answering him.

"Parkinson tried to curse someone behind the person's back. She was mistaken in her thinking and the curse failed to strike the desired target."

"But the only ones here are Slytherins. Why would she…" Gabriel's expression turned from one of confusion to understanding. But when he opened his mouth to say something else to Djemn, she had already pushed through the throng of people and disappeared into the crowd.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn walked silently down the empty school corridors. It was the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the entire school was swarmed at the Quidditch pitch to watch the match. Well, almost the entire school. Djemn had better things to do than watch a game of ridiculous sport. She knew that this was the perfect chance to pay another visit to the bathroom on the second floor. No one will see her as nearly everyone was gone.

The bathroom door came into view and Djemn quickened her pace. It was nearing mid-November and the cold had only intensified. Djemn often found herself reaching for her Warming Potions and putting on thicker clothes than the ones she was already wearing. So far, an attack had not happened yet but she knew better than to be negligent. The years have taught her that it would not do to underestimate her own body.

Djemn slipped into the bathroom and immediately scanned her surroundings. She checked every cubicle for the crying ghost but could find no one. Assuming that said ghost had either left to watch the match along with everyone else or just decided to loiter outside today, Djemn moved towards the purpose of her visit.

The stone sink remained the same since the last time Djmen saw it. The chipped sides were still as chipped and the brown stains coating the bottom of the sink were still present, though there seemed to be a bit more mold on it. Djemn stared at the tiny snake that was engraved on the tap. She couldn't identify what species of snake it was as it was too small. Just as she was done inspecting and was about to try demanding entrance in Parseltongue, the sink once again gave off a bright light and sank away.

Djemn stared at the large hole with wide eyes. She knew what this meant. It meant that the Basilisk was coming out again. Just her unfortunate fortune. But strangely, this time she felt no fear. Not even a sliver. Indeed, she felt as though she was merely visiting Egypt again. Shaking off the odd occurrence, Djemn took out a light grey bandana from her pocket and transfigured it into an eye-mask with no openings. She placed the mask to cover her eyes and stepped back some ways from the hole. The rustling from inside the tunnel became louder, nearer and a voice spoke.

"_**I ssmell blood…… meat… fressssh and near……"**_

Djemn was careful to have her hand near her Glock as the noise came close to the opening of the hole. There was a slight 'THUD' and she heard what sounded like scales on tiles.

"_**Fressssh meat!"**_

"_**Greetings, Great One."**_

Djemn could almost_ feel_ the Basilisk pause in its strike to eat her. Silence reigned for a few moments as neither said anything before the snake spoke again.

"_**You… ssspeak my tongue?"**_

"_**Yes, Great One. This one is a speaker of the noble language."**_

Djemn had to be careful to insert rich amounts of humbleness into her voice. From her experience with snakes, she knew that they were proud, egotistical creatures and expected all others to bow down to them. That is, until they've known you long enough and decided that they liked you. Although, they still remain arrogantly amusing after that. Her meeting with the Basilisk will determine just how well Djemn understood her reptilian friends and how well she can act to turn a complete adversary into an ally.

"_**There hasss not been another sspeaker sssince my masssster …… and hisss heir…. Who iss that one who sspeaksss my tongue?"**_

"_**This one is called Djemn Helesande. This one is from the honourable house of Slytherin." **_

Here, Djemn heard a satisfied hiss from the Basilisk. It seemed that it was pleased about the turn of events. Silence returned as the reptile carefully considered her.

"_**None ssshould know of my exissstence. Yet, that one wearss a massssk to sshield from my eyesss. Why iss that?"**_

"_**This one has learned much about the sacred chamber. Yet, this one wants to know more concerning the many works of Slytherin."**_

Djemn stopped here, half wondering if she'd gone too far. Perhaps the Basilisk did not like people intruding into its master's affairs? Djemn certainly didn't like it one bit when other people imposed upon her privacy. But if the snake's previous reaction was anything to go by, it wouldn't mind too much. And she was right.

"_**Perhapss… I can ssshow you…… Tonight, I will hunt again. That one isss welcome to watch. I will not take your life. Not with my gaze, nor with my venom." **_

"_**This one is honoured, Great One."**_

Djemn heard scales brushing against tiles again as the Basilisk returned into the hole. For what purpose had it come out for, she did not know but it does not matter to her. She had spoken to the Basilisk and had created a sort of agreement between them. That was what mattered to her. Djemn took off the eye-mask she had created and transfigured it back to a bandana; she had no need for it anymore. If all else goes well, she would have found all the answers to her questions about the Chamber of Secrets and acquired a rare new pet by the end of her term. Djemn left the bathroom with a smile on her face.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn followed the Basilisk silently. She watched for any movements. Any movement at all to show that there was someone else besides them in the lone corridors; it was an hour past curfew and most of the students should already be in bed. Djemn didn't know whether she wanted to encounter someone or not. On one hand, she wanted to see the Basilisk's power. On the other, there was no reason for her to wish for the death of a fellow student. So difficult. In the end, Djemn just decided to let the Basilisk choose for itself. If they happened to stumble upon some unfortunate student whom the Basilisk decided was delicious looking, then Djemn would not stop the serpent from its meal. But if their search was unsuccessful, then neither will Djemn lead the snake to a buffet by showing it the way to the houses' common rooms. Yes, Djemn knew where all the common rooms were located in the castle and yes, she realized that her actions portrayed her as heartless and cruel but she was a selfish person who had an undying curiosity. So there.

They finished roaming the hallways and was about to go onto the next floor when they saw movement. Both hid in the shadows as they watched a small boy climb up the stairs, a bunch of grapes in his hand. With a mixture of feelings, Djemn recognized the boy as Colin Creevey, the mousey-haired first year who was always following Harry around. She stood motionless in her position as the Basilisk began to move closer to the boy; she remained by her decision and did nothing to stop the giant serpent.

Colin, however, noticed that something was amiss and started to glance around frantically. For some odd reason or another, he started to take pictures of his surroundings. Flashes and clicks went off successively as the small boy took photograph after photograph. He rotated around his spot at the top of the stairs, camera gripped tightly in his hands. And just as he turned 180 degrees, he came face to face with the Basilisk through the lens of his camera. Djemn saw Colin go stiff as a surf board and fall backwards, creating a soft 'THUN' when his back hit the stone floor. The Basilisk cautiously went over.

"_**He iss not dead yet. Ssstupid contraption! No difference. He will die in my ssstomach."**_

Djemn had a feeling the Basilisk was talking to itself more than it was talking to her and so did not answer. The giant serpent moved around till its head was directly above Colin's. It opened its jaws wide, preparing to swallow the small boy when it suddenly froze. The Basilisk moved its head away from the student to sniff at the air, tasting it.

"_**Ssomeone approachesss. We musssst leave."**_

Djemn was somehow glad as well as disappointed that she will not be seeing the snake swallow the boy whole. The Basilisk moved swiftly away from the petrified student and Djemn made to follow only to find herself crashing to the floor. Shocked, she tried to stand but couldn't. She looked down wildly at her legs which were sprawled on the floor like the limbs of a puppet without its strings. With growing horror, she realized that she had lost all feelings of her legs. Then she cursed herself for her carelessness. This was the longest she'd stayed out of the controlled climate of her room after dusk and the cold of the night was already degrees below the mundane cold of the daytime. Consumed by the excitement of it all, she had not noticed that her body was already beyond its tolerance level for the frigid air. With a horrible feeling clenching her gut and her brain desperately searching for an escape route, Djemn felt the numbness spread to her stomach, then her arms. Her focus became fuzzy, as though everything was muddled together and her last thought before she lost consciousness was,

'_As long as it is not Gilderoy Lockhart.'_

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The Basilisk turned around when it did not sense the girl following it. It eyes stared in confusion as it saw the girl, sprawled unconscious on the cold stone floor. It felt indecision. They cannot afford to linger or they will be found. Making up its mind in a split second, the Basilisk wrapped its coils around the girl and slithered away.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, I lied. So my trials are on the day after tomorrow. But I can't help it! I can't keep my hands off of the keyboard! Lucky for you guys, ain't it? Anyways, the usual business: Reviews, opinions, constructive criticism and the like will be highly appreciated. They help me write faster too. Flames will be donated to poor Djemn. I'm too lazy to explain about some of the more complex parts in this chapter so if there's something you don't understand, feel free to ask in your reviews. Have a nice day, everyone.


	9. 9: Secrets in Secrets, Welcome

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 9 – Secrets in Secrets, Welcome.**

The man stood with his back to her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He wore a grey suit, tailored to his exact measurements. In front of him, on the floor, was another man. This one had tan, orange-coloured skin. He had broken and bloodied fingers. One of his legs was broken. He was a pitiful sight as he whimpered, pleaded and begged the man in the suit. She could only catch certain words coming from him.

"… Please …… Spare me ……… Wife and child …"

The man in the suit would not hear of it. He raised his hand; the bold, silver gun glinted in the light of the dusk. A gunshot. She thought the earth had split open to emit such a sound. It rang in her ears as she turned her eyes back to the man on the floor. She felt her throat go dry and tighten, constricting her air. The man was dead, his glassy eyes, like marbles, stared ahead, unseeing. A hole was at his temple. Blood gushed out of it.

A soft scream and the man turned to his side. There was a woman and a child, huddling in a corner. The woman was protecting the child, holding him tightly, away from the man. Her eyes pleaded with the man. Tears ran down her cheeks, ignored. The man paused. Two gunshots. They were dead. Both dead. The child still clung onto his mother.

The man turned around. His eyes locked onto hers. He called her name.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Cold.

Djemn's mind woke with a start. Her mind was a jumble of mixed thoughts and emotions as she struggled to organize herself by recalling everything she could remember while trying to appear unconscious at the same time. She remembered meeting the Basilisk, going out at night. She remembered Colin Creevey, the boy who was petrified. She remembered someone approaching. Then she was falling, cold, and lastly darkness. No, that was not all. She remembered gunshots. A man, a woman and a child.

Djemn struggled to push the memory away. It was ancient history; something that happened so long ago, it should have been forgotten. Why had it resurfaced after all these years, she hadn't the slightest. But she did not want to relive that day again.

Djemn sorted out her thoughts and began to feel around her surroundings. There was the constant dripping of water, echoing rather loudly when the liquid impacted with solid surface. She analyzed the sounds and concluded that she was in a very big place with very thick walls. The floor beneath her was uneven, rough, hard, and lukewarm. The air was so cold and damp, Djemn was surprised that she hadn't died from hypothermia. There was a stale scent in the air, though it was more due to age than decay.

Now, Djemn was confused. Last she remembered, she was in the hallway where Colin was left petrified on the floor. Someone had been coming in their direction and the Basilisk had said to flee but Djemn hadn't managed to as she had lost consciousness due to the cold. Surely, the person who was approaching them had found her and Colin sprawled on the floor. Then, surely said person would have brought them to the Hospital Wing for treatment. Unless that person had wanted them dead. Djemn knew that there was always that possibility. But even that didn't explain why she was where she was.

"**_That one isss finally awake."_**

Djemn twitched slightly in alarm. She wasn't aware that she was not alone. Recognizing the voice as the Basilisk's, Djemn cautiously opened her eyes. Nothing. She could see nothing. But she could_ feel_ whatever she was on give a low rumble and a slight shift. Djemn put the pieces together and nearly sat up in shock at the realization.

"**_Great One?"_**

The surface beneath her shifted again before the Basilisk answered her. **_"Isss that one well enough?"_**

"_**This one is uncertain. This one has many questions unanswered. Will the Great One grant this one those answers?"**_

The Basilisk agreed and a long conversation ensued. By the end of it, Djemn had found out that, after she passed out, the Basilisk had taken her with it back to the Chamber of Secrets so that she would not be discovered by whoever it was that was approaching them at that time. Then it had kept her warm by coiling around her so that she wouldn't freeze to death in the underground chamber. So that explained why the ground beneath her could move.

"_**But why did the Great One save this one? This one is unworthy."**_

"**_That one hasss a sscent …… like my masssster'ss ssscent. It is the sscent of ssserpentss. That one isss not the heir but that one iss important to Sslytherin…. I could not let that one die."_**

Djemn lay there, stunned, for a moment. She liked snakes to death, that was true, but to smell like one? And Djemn was sure that the Basilisk meant something else when it said that she smelt like serpents. But that was for another time to think. Djemn was feeling too drained and too weak to consider about Slytherin and his ideas. She tried to sit up, only managing with the help of the serpent. Knowing that it was futile to try and see her surroundings without a light, she asked the Basilisk if she could use a light charm. It consented and Djemn whispered a soft 'lumos', using her wand; it was much less exhausting that way.

The chamber she was in was immediately bathed in soft yellow light. Djemn took her time to observe. She could make out a very large statue of a head on one side of the chamber while on the other, was an enormous set of double doors that looked very majestic with their snakes and vines woven elaborately on the stone. There were numerous stone pillars covered in carved snakes, holding up the high stone ceiling. It was a very spacious room, with what seemed to be smooth stone floor covered in a thin sheet of water, still and undisturbed like glass. There were torches on either side of the chamber, but they looked so old and unused that Djemn doubted their ability to hold flame. She took one last look at her surroundings then glanced down at her watch. It read 4 o'clock.

Djemn felt a sense of unease as she tried to untangle herself from the Basilisk. She immediately regretted her decision when her feet hit the wet floor. It was colder than ice. She nearly lost feelings in her legs again but forced herself to walk it off. It wasn't easy. To her, each step felt colder than the last and it was a painful and nerve-wrecking experience. Finally, after what felt like hours but in reality were mere minutes, Djemn managed to move without flinching at every step, though she was still shivering violently with cold. The Basilisk watched her the whole time without saying anything.

"**_This one is very indebted to you, Great One. But this one must leave or there will be consequences. How can this one leave the chamber?"_**

"**_The heir only comesss and goess by the sssame way that one knowssss. That of which isss beyond thosse doorsss."_** The Basilisk looked towards the stone double doors.

Djemn thought hard. The tunnel from the bathroom leading to the chamber was steep and long. It was mainly for the Basilisk, not humans. It was difficult enough to climb up using a levitation charm when she was in her top form, but now, with her fatigue and her shivering, it was nearly impossible. She had to use another way.

"**_Is there another way? This one is too frail for climbing at this moment."_**

The Basilisk paused, as though thinking. Then it tilted its head slightly, considering. **_"There isss…… another way. But one that hassn't been usssed for a very long time. My masster made it for my entrance but I…… dissslike it. However, it would sserve well asss an exit for that one."_**

Djemn nodded. She needed to return to her room as soon as possible; it was already far past her limit as it is. The Basilisk started to move away, into the open mouth of the statue, and Djmen followed. She was somewhat disappointed at the turn of things. She had wanted to study the insides of the Chamber of Secrets at the shortest time possible. She just didn't think she would end up in it this way; unconscious then tired and cold. So it would have to wait. Survival exceeds curiosity.

The Basilisk led Djemn along a low and narrow tunnel, just wide enough for the Basilisk to move comfortably. The walls were wet and covered with moss. The torches found in the tunnel, like the ones in the chamber, were aged and rusty. They walked (slithered) for about ten minutes before Djemn noticed a very well hidden, but not well enough, door set in the stone wall on her right. It was a dark grayish black, with a turn knob that camouflaged perfectly into the stone. She stopped, staring at it.

"_**To where does this door lead, Great One?"**_

The Basilisk stopped. It craned its neck, looking at where Djemn was staring. It paused for a moment, thinking again.

"**_It hasss been sso long... my memory failsss me. But…… It should lead to my masssster'ss chamber… I have never been in it."_**

Djemn felt her adrenaline spark ever so slightly at hearing that she had found Salazar Slytherin's chamber. This one must be his secret chamber within the Secret Chamber, one that has never been discovered, not even by the heir, if the Basilisk's words were anything to go by.

"_**Does the Heir know of this chamber?"**_

"**_No…… He hass never been in thisss tunnel and ass ssssuch, never ssseen thissss door."_**

"_**Did you not tell him, Great One?"**_

"**_He doesss not ssspeak with me, nor I with him…… He commandssss, I obey." _**

Djemn thought she heard a bland tone to what the Basilisk said last. She noted with satisfaction that their short conversation had answered a few of the things that she had been meaning to ask. Firstly, it was confirmed that Ginny Weasley was not the Heir of Slytherin as the Basilisk had twice defined the heir as male. Secondly, the heir was not a very thorough kind of person as he had not found the hidden room yet. Thirdly, he was not friendly with the Basilisk. The snake may listen to him and obey him as it should but in no way did he sound close to the serpent. So perhaps that is the reason why the Basilisk seemed so willing and eager to entertain Djemn; it probably had not had someone to talk to for nearly a thousand years since Salazar Slytherin died. It keeping Djemn alive was as much as for its own good and entertainment as it was Djemn's. Coming to this understanding, Djemn decided to try and push her luck a little more.

"_**May I enter, Great one?"**_

The Basilisk didn't see a reason to say no. After all, its master had died so long ago and no one had ever entered the room since. Why bar the room when there wasn't a reason to? The Basilisk consented and Djemn immediately started a detection spell on the door. This meant that she had to keep a flame of light wandlessly in her left hand while she performed. It was tiring and slow and she could feel her magic seeping from her, bit by bit, but her search gradually came back with results of no pre-set spells, traps or any of the sort. There wasn't even a lock, magical or physical, on the door. Djemn was puzzled that Salazar Slytherin would have such a lack of security but she brushed the matter aside. He was probably very certain that no one could get into the Chamber of Secrets besides him and his heir. And it was all the better and easier for Djemn anyway. Taking a breath, she held her wand at the ready and opened the door. Her jaw went slack at what she saw.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Albus Dumbledore was concerned. One of his students has been missing since the attack on young Colin Creevey. What with the recent events happening in the school, he feared the worst had befallen her. She was, after all, a muggle-born, he knew. A Slytherin muggle-born. And that's where he was most concerned. There was the issue of the house legacy that had never been broken before her arrival, the issue of her deep understanding and expert usage of magic, the issue of her cold and uncaring exterior that even the Slytherins respect, the issue that Severus can't seem to read her surface thoughts when he tried gently…… There was so much mystery surrounding one Djemn Helesande. He regretted that it wasn't him who invited her to Hogwarts before the beginning of the school year; he would have liked to know more of what her family was like.

Albus sighed and moved to look out his window. The rain had not let up and outside, it was still raining all manner of animals, figuratively speaking of course. He felt that his mind was not unlike that of the whether; clouded and raining with thoughts yet one could not catch them in one's bare hands. He had had the Helesande girl constantly in his thoughts since her transfer from first to second year.

At first, when they first realized that she had inherited her powers late, it was not a matter of great importance as it had been known to happen to some students. When Minerva had told him that she had never seen a muggle-born as expressionless and as unimpressed by magic as her, Albus had thought that the girl was merely too shocked about it all and brushed the matter aside. But when teacher after teacher began complimenting her on her abilities with magic and skill, Albus began to take notice. Djemn Helesande was a muggle-born with no prior knowledge of magic yet she was the star of the class on the first day itself. Minerva told him that the girl had managed to do simultaneous transfigurations without much difficulty on the first try. That was not an easy achievement even for a well prepared pureblood child. It began to plant questions in Albus's mind. Questions that he had wanted answers to. So he asked for a meeting with the girl.

The first Saturday back was the first time he met the girl face to face. Minerva was right when she said that the Helesande girl was expressionless. Oh no, there _was_ expression on her face but only the expressions she wanted the world to see. Her eyes were the most guarded ones Albus that had ever seen in a child. It gave him the impression that she was no longer a child. Perhaps she hasn't been for a long time. Perhaps she never was. Albus didn't manage to find out as he couldn't pick up random surface thoughts from her. Later, he found out through Severus that he was having the same difficulty. The girl was an Occlumens, a rather honed one. Which led Albus back to the question, where had she learned all the magic that she has shown thus far? Surely the books can only go so far as to provide her with mere information. The proficiency she has shown had the evidence of practice behind it but that was impossible. It passed Albus's mind at one point that she could very well be a genius. Very much like one of his former students…… He had quickly banished that thought away but since then, it was always there, just floating about, reminding him whenever he thought too hard about the girl. He promised fate to keep an eye on her. If she turned out to be anything like Tom, then he would have an even bigger problem than a monster loose in the school.

By the end of the meeting that day, it was established in Albus's mind that, though she may not look it, Djemn Helesande was an excellent manipulator of thoughts. She was always in control of where the conversation went and was always capable of saying just what she wanted to say without lying or giving away too many facts. It was as if she knew what you were thinking and could say just the right thing to steer your thoughts away from unwanted questions concerning her. At one point, Albus had thought the girl was a Legilimens too but had cast the idea aside when he had not felt any attempts at entering his mind. The girl was relying entirely on herself to read his thoughts; by his gaze, speech, movements and surrounding area. It was a terrifying thought. He could only imagine what else the girl was capable of.

Result of their meeting, Albus had promised to skip her a year as she was in no need of it. The next day, they, all her teachers and Djemn, had gathered in an empty classroom and tested her to see if she was qualified for the transfer. She was. Even more than qualified if Albus allowed himself to be honest. He had a feeling the girl knew more than what she was showing at that time but was content to exhibit only that level of magic; she transfigured a pencil into a table knife and back, she correctly named all the plants that Professor Sprout described, she could recite the history of the Goblin war during the Dark Ages, she could brew a perfect chicken-pox curing potion, she could charm the door to close and lock by itself, and she remembered the properties and number of moons of every planet in the solar system.

When the test for Defence Against the Dark Arts came, she showed her most spectacular performance that day. With a well aimed "Diffindo!", she wholly cracked the slab of tree trunk that had been placed next to Professor Lockhart, causing the man to loose his nerve and topple over with a cry. He seemed a bit put out whenever she went near him after that. It didn't take long for their assessment and Djemn had passed with flying rainbow colours. Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Sinistra were simply delighted and wanted her to be skipped straight to third year. Minerva, on the other hand, just stood with her lips thinned and Severus was silent. Gilderoy had no comments while Professor Binns was being himself, merely staring. They ended up agreeing to skip her only one year, to the disappointment of the other three professors. However, they were very keen on giving her extra classes to help her move faster as she was already somewhat beyond her year. Albus could see that Djemn was very pleased with the results.

After that, he had kept a close watch on Djemn as she slowly made herself more powerful in the house of Slytherin. He had noted with surprise that, even with her muggle heritage, she could stand her position in the snake house and acquire quite a few admirers, mostly the first years. Of course, that meant that she also made a few enemies, namely the existing hierarchy members such as Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. While it was not obvious, Albus had noticed that there was a power struggle between the two sides. From what he could gather, Djemn had been quite a prominent person back in her old school. It was only natural that she tried to make a place for herself here at Hogwarts as well.

As he watched, Albus couldn't help but think that Djemn was slowly winning. He also couldn't stop himself from feeling attracted to her mystery. There was something about her that just unsettled him. Alas, something happened before he could ask her to join him for a session of tea. On the night of the attack on Colin, she disappeared without a trace. At first, no one noticed until Severus pointed out to his class that she was missing. He had not paid it much heed until the next day when she did not show up for any of her classes as well. He then asked one of her female classmates to look for her in her room only to find it locked and set to prank anyone who tries to open it. Furious that she would disregard all her classes to hide in her dorm, Severus had gone to confront her. In his mind, no matter how good she was, she had no excuse to skip classes and do whatever she wanted. He had the most (according to him)-loathsome, (according to Albus)-amusing, surprise when he was sprayed with multi-coloured bubbles of all shapes and sizes as he tried to spell open her door. Many tries and innumerable cleaning charms later, he finally enlisted the help of a Hogwarts house-keeping house elf on the third day to weaken the magic that was forbidding all entrance to the girl's room. When they finally managed to force open her door, Severus had another rather shocking surprise……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The magic on the door yielded and the wood slammed open at the force of the spell Severus had used. There was the meanest scowl ever on his face. No, it wasn't a scowl; it was a look to torture, murder, then grant life so he can torture the unfortunate person again. His glare gave an entire new meaning to the phrase 'If looks could kill'. Well, of course; he had been bubbled, mudded, slimed, bogeyed, potato-gravy'ed, manure'ed, splashed with jelly, purple-dyed, dumped with trash, and all manner of things in between. He was not, what one would call, a happy man.

Severus stomped his way into the room and prepared to yell the ears off of the infuriating, insufferable, my-sole-wish-is-to-murder-you-right-now mudblood when his words were caught in his throat. Of all the sights he was expecting to see, this was not one of them. The room was inexplicably clean: the bed was made, the desk was cleared, there was not a single piece of discarded clothing anywhere; and separated into two by a grey screen. On the right side was Helesande's bed, trunk, wardrobe, and desk while on the left, was not anything that Severus remembered belonged to the standard Slytherin dorm room. There was a table-cum-storage cabinet opposite a rather nice looking potions workplace. On the wall adjacent to the entrance door, was a tall, broad bookshelf half-filled with thick books. The air in the room was warm, as though in mid-spring, and as silent as winter nights.

Severus could immediately identify a climate controlling charm, several silencing charms, locking charms, privacy charms, obscuring charms, and little bits of whatever that was left of the magic on the door. He was slightly stunned by the number of spells and charms that were scattered all over the room. No doubt, the extra furniture was transfigured from the unused bed, desk and wardrobe in the dorm. Just thinking about the amount of magic needed to perform these spells and transfigurations, he was sure that Djemn had had them all quite fooled about her level of magic. But where did a student get so much magic and why would she need so much confidentiality? The security of this room made it seem as though she had something to hide. Maybe she did, thought Severus as he eyed the potions workplace. So that was how she became so well-versed in his subject; she had been practicing in secret. An odd sort of pride ignited in his chest but he quickly dowsed it. This was no time to be proud about some mudblood. The same mudblood that was nowhere in the room. Frowning, he scanned the room one more time before moving over to the bathroom. Empty as well.

Severus moved back into the room and saw that some of the Slytherins that had been outside were now inside, openly gawking at the unique difference between their rooms and Helesande's. Severus scowled and ordered them out, leaving the door only slightly ajar; he didn't want to close it and risk being locked inside. Then he looked over the room again, taking in every single detail. He opened the desk drawers and found parchment along with some different coloured ball-pointed pens(yes, he knew what they were). There was nothing else at the desk. Severus skipped the wardrobe and went to the girl's trunk. He stood there a moment, unsure of what to do. If getting into the room itself had caused him so much agony, who's to say that worse won't happen when he tried to open her trunk? Deciding that he better not risk it, he ignored his burning curiosity and walked over to the left side of the room.

Severus opened the storage cabinets and gaped at the various types of ingredients inside. It was completely stocked. There were the commonly used ingredients and the more rare ingredients along with some weird looking things that even Severus couldn't make out. It was a potion ingredient haven for any potion loving person. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Severus checked all of the cabinets then went to the bookshelf. He scanned the titles and was not surprised to see some more 'dark' volumes there, though they were more 'grey' than actual 'dark'. It was evident that Helesande hadn't been very 'light' in her choice of reading. Coupled with the security charms and her unexplainable knowledge of certain spells, Severus could imagine why the girl had needed so many obscuring charms around her room.

Severus took one last look at the dorm room-cum-Potions lab and cast an invisibility spell check, just in case. The result came back negative. There really was no one in the room besides him. With another scowl, he turned and left. Once outside, he told the house elf to seal the room and make sure that not one student was allowed to enter. Then, he left the Slytherin common room without another word, ignoring the questioning gazes and whisperings of his students. He had a minor migraine just thinking about all the things he would have to do and explain now: He had a female muggle-born student missing; said student had shown excessive amounts of magic; said student seemed to have been practicing Dark Magic; there was a legendary monster loose in the school, presumably controlled by Slytherin's Heir; said student went missing after an attack on another muggle-born student. Blend those together and Severus had the headache of the year.

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I'm done! I really need to go study now so I have to make this quick. Reviews, opinions and constructive criticism are welcomed. Flames will be used to light up the Chamber of Secrets so that poor Djemn won't have to use 'lumos' any longer.

In this chapter, you see a little of the past. Now you might understand why Lockhart is kinda afraid of Djemn. This chapter also explains why the Basilisk was so keen to help Djemn when it was rumoured to be a cold-blooded(excuse the pun) killer carnivore. Then, we see a little of what Dumbledore thinks about Djemn and finally, invasion by Professor Snape into Djemn's room. Don't worry, next chapter, there will be even _more_ invasions by some rather unexpected people.

To dear taugeh: I have already clarified this to you but I'll just say it again all the same for the sake of the fic. It's constrictor. And thanks for the review!

Until the next chapter, have a nice day, everyone.


	10. 10: Mess Not with a General

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 10 – Mess Not with a General.**

"Severus! What a pleasant surprise."

Albus Dumbledore was in his office reading some of the letters that had arrived the day before from concerned parents when one Severus Snape strode, quite unannounced, into the room. Albus had looked up in pleasant surprise at the sudden visit. It was not common for Severus to, willingly, come see him. He had taken one look at his former student's face and blinked. Severus's facial expression was so dark, the thundering clouds outside paled in comparison.

"Is something the matter, Severus?"

"It's that girl…… Djemn Helesande."

"Ah, yes. I heard from Minerva. Did you manage to coax her out of her room yet? It will not do for her to continue skipping classes when her professors are so keen to help her advance."

"That is the problem, Albus. She is not _in_ her room."

"Not in?"

And so Severus gave the entire explanation starting from when he first noticed her missing three days ago. He had assumed that the girl was hiding in her dorm due to some petty reason during the entirety of her absence. Only that he had found no one in the tightly secured room after many hours of trying to break down the door. He also told Albus of the various interesting modifications that Helesande had made to her room and watched the old man's eyebrows rise in astonish. So, the headmaster hadn't been expecting Helesande to have that much power either. However, Severus deliberately left out the part about the books he found in Helesande's room. He had a gut feeling that he shouldn't tell the headmaster about them just yet.

"So, you mean to say that Miss Helesande has been truly missing for three days since the night of the attack?"

"Correct."

Silence reigned as both men pondered over the newly found facts. While Djemn Helesande was a Slytherin student, she was also a muggle-born, which made her liable to the attacks from the legendary monster of Slytherin if any of the ancient texts were to be trusted. She could very well have been taken or worse, eaten, by the monster. And they hadn't had a clue about her disappearance until three days later. It was not looking well for them or Djemn. Coming to a decision, Albus stood and faced Severus with a grim expression on his face.

"Severus, gather all your students and have them return to their dormitories. Make sure that none of them leave their common rooms. I am issuing a full castle search for Djemn Helsande. If fate allows, she might still be alive."

Severus had an urge to rebut that she was unlikely to be dead as she was probably one of those people who wouldn't go down without a messy, gory fight but thought better of it. After all, it had been three days without any sign of her. He nodded stiffly at the headmaster and left with a swish of robes.

Albus left his office and proceeded to tell the same to the other three head of houses. The students needed to be kept safe while they searched every corner of the castle for any indication as to where Miss Helesande might be. He was somewhat disappointed at himself for not noticing something wrong sooner. While there was the attack on young Colin and the mild panic that had been coursing through the school, he should have kept a closer watch on the Helesande girl like he had promised. It was his deepest hope now that she was merely petrified and kidnapped as there were certainly worse fates awaiting her.

The confused students were herded into their respective common rooms by their heads of houses and were strictly told to stay there. All prefects were put on duty to ensure that no one left their dorms. Then, the teachers started on the search. Each had different thoughts running through their minds as they scoured every inch of the castle: most of the professors were rather upset and distraught at the news that their prime student had been a victim to the monster of Slytherin; others, namely Professors McGonagall and Snape, didn't know what to think.

Minerva has always been a strict person and though Djemn had never broken a rule at Hogwarts, at least not in the public's eye, she couldn't really bring herself to trust the girl. Like how she felt back at Helesande Manor, there was always the underlying mystery and threat to Djemn that put Minerva's nerves on alert. The girl was something different from the norm and she couldn't help but feel that Djemn was fairly … dangerous because of that. But now, the child had been pronounced missing and possibly dead by the hands of the monster that was currently terrifying the school. Minerva didn't know if she should feel bad about distrusting the girl but she was certain that she would feel simply horrible if they ever found her lifeless body.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, had very different thoughts in his mind. Yes, it was very likely that the Helesande girl had been taken by the monster, but it was also plausible for the exact opposite. It could very well have been her who was behind all these attacks. No one knew anything about her and after her arrival, there was suddenly an Heir of Slytherin running about the school, unleashing a deadly monster to kill all muggle-borns. Plus, it had been doubtful enough whether or not she herself was a muggle-born. It seemed to make even more sense now if she wasn't. Backed by his observations concerning her attitude, behavior, unexplainable strength, and lately, unauthorized ownership of Dark material, it was not impossible that she was the heir. Either way, they had to find her as soon as possible.

The search went on into the evening. By dinnertime, the staff was forced to admit defeat in their efforts and concede to the fact that Djemn Helesande was indeed missing and beyond their reach. There was the possibility that she girl had run away from the school but it was a preposterous idea; she was liked by the majority of the other house students as she was nothing like the stereotype Slytherin, she was a favourite of almost all the teachers, and her overall academic prestige was one of the highest in her year. It seemed simply ridiculous for her to run away as she had no problems, no emotional burden or anything of the sort as far as her teachers knew. Then where was she? There was no body, no note, no trace…… It's like she simply vanished that night. With a solemn face, the headmaster had no choice but to tell his students of Djemn Helesande's disappearance during dinner that evening.

"I have very grave and saddening news to tell you all as I'm sure you are all well curious as to why there has been a sudden search in the castle. It has come to our attention that Miss Djemn Helesande from the house of Slytherin has been missing for the past three days."

A babble of talk immediately broke out. After the attack on Colin, the students were certain that it was only a matter of time before the monster striked again. Though never in their young minds had they suspected that it would be a Slytherin student. Djemn Helesande was a muggle-born and she was attacked even though she had been from Slytherin, the heir's own house. This did nothing to ease the fear and anxiety in the students. It was plain obvious now that houses didn't matter, just blood.

"I must ask if any one of you have any information regarding Miss Helesande. Please speak to your head of house if you do. It is of much consequence that we find her as soon as possible. And due to the recent events, new rules will be put into action to ensure the safety of the students. No one student will be allowed to roam outside dormitories after six o'clock and every class will be escorted to the next by teachers. Anyone caught breaking these new rules will face harsh punishment for their actions."

Dinner was a quiet affair that day. Many of the younger years were too shocked and frightened to say much while the older years were exhausting their minds with worry, be it for their friends or themselves. However, not all the students were upset at the news. While one group of Gryffindors spoke and discussed grimly among themselves, another group of Slytherins were rejoicing their sheer fortune.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Harry, Hermione and Ron were in a heated discussion, glaring at the Malfoy heir every now and then. They had been a bit puzzled when they had not seen Djemn in their usual classes with the Slytherins for the past two days. But the possibility of her having other things to do had been high as she had after all, skipped a year so the trio had not thought much about it. Now, they were regretting their decision to not investigate their friend's absence sooner. No doubt the Malfoy prat had gotten to her. It was no secret that the two hated each other since the day Djemn was sorted into Slytherin. After her humiliation of Malfoy in the potions classroom, Harry was somewhat certain that she had traded places with him as Malfoy's most hated person in the school. Naturally, Malfoy would go after her. Now they just had to wait for the Polyjuice Potion to prove that it was him behind all these attacks and make sure he got what he deserved.

"But what are we going to do about Djemn _now_? We can't just leave her. Malfoy could have her tied up somewhere, tortured and d… dying." said Ron, going pale in the face even as the words left his mouth.

"There's nothing we _can_ do, Ron. We don't know where Malfoy's keeping her. If the teachers can't find her, what makes you think we can? Right now, we can only hope that she's confined but okay." replied Hermione, though her attempt at consoling Ron was, at best, a weak one.

"Yeah, Ron. Djemn's not someone who can be beaten by the likes of Malfoy." added Harry.

The three could do nothing but glare venomously at Draco Malfoy as dinner carried on. The Slytherin was euphoric as he talked loudly and boastfully to his friends that he knew all along it was only matter of time before the 'filth' would be purged from their noble house. Some of the students who had fallen out of his favour during Djemn's presence desperately tried to get back into his good graces. The Slytherin first years, on the other hand, looked as though they were in mourning. Some of them were even sniffing softly at the lost of their Senior. Harry felt sorry for them. Djemn had not been very popular in the snake house and anyone remotely close to her must have risked being shunned to be friends with her. Now that she's gone, it must hurt quite a bit for them. Harry sighed and went back to discussing with Hermione and Ron. They needed to finish that potion and fast.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Breakfast the next day was in better spirits though not by much. The students still seemed nervous and tended to whisper than speak out loud like how they normally would. Many owls were coming and going, filling the Great Hall with loud hoots. No doubt the students had written to their parents and the concerned guardians were now cramming warnings, advice, instruction and the like in their letters to their respective children.

Blaise watched all this with bored eyes. He had been suspicious when Helesande had abruptly stopped attending her classes but there wasn't much he could do about it so he left it alone. After the second night of her absence, he had formed three possibilities in his head. One – Helesande was doing something important in her room and couldn't be bothered to come out; Blaise knew that she had a stash of food in her room as she tended to skip meals often. Two – Helesande had been taken by the monster of Slytherin; she was the only muggle-born in the snake house, it was certainly plausible. Three – Helesande was the Heir of Slytherin and had to disappear for a while due to some difficulties; she could have met with some problems after her attack on Creevey and needed time to straighten it out.

It was a surprise to Blaise that the teachers had not realized any of this. It was really quite thick-headed of them. Blaise though, had his thoughts about Professor Snape. The man seemed to know just what might actually be going on with Helesande. Of course, he always seemed to know about everything. And Blaise could just bet that he had seen something in Helesande's room that had warranted an unbreakable seal on the door. From what he could get from the students who had been present during the break-in, it was not the standard dorm room they saw inside; it was more of a mini potions lab cross bed chamber.

Blaise looked across the table at Draco. The blond was the happiest he had seen him since the start of school. He had a small turn at the edge of his lips that indicated he was very content at the moment. Blaise couldn't blame him for feeling that way. After all, the challenger to his authority in the house had been dealt with and he was back at the top with no one to question him anymore. Blaise felt a bit better at seeing this. He really would have hated to turn his back onto his childhood friend in favour of self-preservation. He had not told Draco about what he had found out from Theodore a few weeks back. Theodore had followed his example and had not said a word about the letter he received from his 'acquaintance' either. At the time, they were both aware that they had to act carefully so as to always remain out of either party's bad books; there had been no telling which side would win in the end. Now, Blaise could relax a bit, or at least while Helesande was still missing. If she were to return, then the fight between Draco and her would only intensify. And that was assuming that she was not traumatized for life, unimpaired by injury and not the Heir of Slytherin. If, by any chance that she _was_ the Heir, then Draco would probably suffer the worst defeat and humiliation in his life.

The Great Hall entrance doors suddenly swung open, revealing a man standing there in regal position. The students froze as one, eyes all fixed on the sudden intruder. All conversations had ceased and every attention was now on the man. Said intruder was not bothered by this at all and began walking rather regally towards the staff table, straight towards Dumbledore. The man was wearing matching dark grey clothes that closely resembled high ranking military uniform. He had short black hair and tan brown skin. His dark eyes were intent on the headmaster as he closed the distance between them and stopped a mere four feet from the staff table. They regarded each other for a moment before the stranger spoke, his deep voice traveling through the entire room even though he was not speaking particularly loudly.

"Headmaster Dumbledore." It was more of a statement than an affirmation.

The bearded wizard nodded watchfully. "And might I ask your identity?"

"General Jean-Roy Helesande, Djemn Helesande's father."

If the hall wasn't silent before, it was now with the identity of the man in the open. Blaise watched intently, his eyes slightly wide. He was sure many others had the same expression on their faces. _This_ was Djemn Helesande's father? The man practically gave off waves of power and confidence. His face was a mask of indifference as his stone cold black eyes watched everything like a hawk. It was intimidating and Blaise suddenly remembered the warning Theodore had received in the letter. He understood now why the 'acquaintance' had wanted them to keep their noses out of the Helesande business. It would not do much for their health if they were to cross this man.

Blaise glanced over at Draco who was slightly gaping as well. Most of the children from pureblood families with socially higher positions probably understood this type of people the most; their fathers were exactly the same. It was, to some extent, disconcerting to see someone who was of non-magical blood act the same way. While it was completely naïve of them to think that muggle aristocrats would act differently from their own, Blaise could see more of why Helesande behaves the way she does. He was more surprised that she didn't turn out like Draco; arrogant and spoilt.

"Ah. Perhaps we should speak in my office." said the headmaster, standing up.

General Helesande nodded and turned sharply, following the headmaster away. There was another man who had entered with the general, a tall man in a black suit. This man was not as nerve-wrecking as Helesande's father but was still frightening in his own way. He held a black briefcase in his left hand and was silent throughout the entire conversation. When the general left, he followed dutifully. Blaise could guess that he was either a bodyguard or a man servant, though the former was more likely. As the doors closed behind the departed group, fast, anxious talk broke out in the hall.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Severus watched the headmaster rise and leave the table. He discreetly left through a side door and met with the headmaster, general and his companion not five minutes later in one of the corridors outside the Great Hall.

"Mr.Helesande, allow me to introduce Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts and Miss Helesande's Head of House. Severus, this is General Jean-Roy Helesande, Miss Helesande's father." said the headmaster, moving aside to allow the proper greetings between both men. Said men stared at each other for a good five seconds before General Helesande offered his hand. Severus took it cautiously. He was right about being cautious when the firm handshake became a little too firm for his liking. After dropping his hand, he had to curb the urge to flex his fingers, which had gone a tad numb.

They said no more after that and simply walked in silence to the headmaster's office. Two corridors before their destination, something happened which set Severus on his highest alert since the arrival of the Helesande girl's father. A small, shiny, grass-green snake was slithering towards them at a rapid pace. It moved in nearly a straight line, heading at them with such vigor that Severus had his wand out and ready in two quick moves. However, he was not nearly as fast as the general. As a curse incantation gathered at the tip of his tongue, the general moved forward and intercepted the snake.

Both Severus and Albus stared incredulously as the man bent down till his left hand was inches above the stone floor and waited for the snake to climb onto his arm. It did exactly that, slithering on then coiling around his arm in graceful movements. The general then brought the reptile closer to his self and stroked the head of the snake gently, almost lovingly. Both headmaster and potions master took a moment to compose themselves before speaking.

"You handle snakes well, Mr.Helesande." said the headmaster, a light hint of daze in his voice.

"It is not the first time I have encountered one." The reply went no further than that.

Once inside his office, Headmaster Dumbledore offered seats, tea and lemon drops; the last two declined by all three of his guests. Then, he sat down behind his desk and contemplated where to start. While all this happened, Severus's mind grew restless. His wand was suspiciously close to his hand and his eyes would flick over to the general ever so carefully every now and then. The man had acted so freely with the snake, without even knowing if it was poisonous, dangerous or not. What with the business of the Heir, the possibility of Djemn Helesande practicing Dark Magic, and her father's ease with snakes, it was beginning to create great strain on Severus's sanity.

"Headmaster, perhaps you may start at how you lost trace of my daughter."

The voice was low and calm but Severus didn't fail to identify the underlying anger in it. The man was sitting perfectly still and confident in his armchair, eyes not once losing their intensity as they bored into the headmaster's. The old wizard's eyes did not have their usual twinkle as he stared back at the parent. He sighed and told everything he knew of Djemn Helesande's disappearance. It was as Severus had explained to him yesterday; the first day, second, third, the breaking-in, and finally, the search after their conversation. It seemed that after dinner, Dumbledore had written a letter to inform Helesande's family of the recent happenings, thus how the girl's father had come to know of his daughter's disappearance along with the role of the Chamber of Secrets in it.

"I will make it clear, Headmaster, that I will not be 'rest assured' as you so put it in your letter, until I have seen my daughter live and well. You have until tomorrow evening to find her."

Silence reigned as the general's words hung in the air, making it thick and harder to breath. Both the Hogwarts staff members knew that there was the unsaid trailing of "or else…" at the end of the man's say. While it was still doubtful as to whether or not this man can actually do damage to the school, it was better to be safe than sorry. The general seemed not at all humourous about the situation in which his daughter was in.

"Of course, Mr.Helesande. We will do our best to find your daughter as soon as we can. Will you be staying in the castle during that time?"

"No. I will return at the end of the appointed time. I expect to see my daughter then."

The general rose and so did Severus on reflex. Both men faced each other for a few moments then the general suddenly said something that caught Severus quite surprised.

"My daughter has written about you in her letters, Potions Master. It seems that she thinks rather highly of you. Let us hope that her judgment was not unjustified. Good day, Headmaster, Professor."

The general and his silent companion left the office, leaving the two wizards at a loss, one for words, one for actions. Severus was a little stunned by what the general had said regarding the Helesande girl's opinion of him while Albus was perplexed about what he should do to find the girl within the given time limit. The search the day before had proved futile so what other means have they to find a child in a ridiculously large castle?

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Jean-Roy was livid. No, he was beyond livid. He was completely outraged and murderous. He knew he shouldn't have let his daughter indulge in the ridiculous notion of magical schooling. Look where it got her now. Missing! For three days even. And the school had the gall to tell him to be 'rest assured'? Was it normal in the magical community to have their children missing for days then suddenly pop back out unharmed without a care in the world?

Jean-Roy still remembered the cyclone of emotions that had assaulted him when he first read the Hogwarts letter he received the night before. He had just finished dinner with his wife and had retreated to read some documents in his study when a tawny owl started scratching on the window panes. Fortunately, his study was one of the few rooms in the manor that had windows which actually opened. The avian messenger though, was not his daughter's.

Paranoid as he was, the general knew that he would not understand anything until he had read whatever that was in the letter the owl had in its beak. He was mildly surprised when he saw that it was from Djemn's school. From his daughter's weekly letters and reports, he understood that Djemn had no problems fitting into the folds of the wizarding community. It seemed very unlikely that she had gotten into trouble with the school. Which only left one other possibility.

Jean-Roy had to keep his rage in check when he read about his daughter's sudden disappearance which had gone unnoticed for three days, according to the headmaster. Said headmaster had sounded very remorseful in his letter and had promised to do everything they could to find Djemn. Well, Jean-Roy would make sure they did. He immediately reorganized his schedule to free a slot of five days. Then he made some phone calls and summons before leaving at once for his military headquarters. There were certain things that he had to do before he decided whether or not he was going to assassinate the Hogwarts headmaster.

"Sir! Good evening, sir."

"At ease, soldier. I need you to pin-point a signal from a tracking device with the identification code of 3-11-6-11-5."

The young intelligence officer blinked then sat back down in his seat to carry out his orders. His fingers flew over the controls with haste and precision as he unconsciously became war-mode under the eyes of his superior. It was not everyday that the general came down personally to the tracking and reconnaissance section of the Intelligence Office. Usually, he would send for a subordinate to do the scouting and obtaining information rather than make the trip himself. For him to come in person and ask for an identification in the middle of the night, it must have been very important. Either that or the general was even more eccentric than most thought he was.

"Sir, we've locked onto the signal. Narrowing it down…"

Had the officer been looking up, he would have seen his general's shoulders relax slightly, though his face remained impassive. But, as the young soldier had been too preoccupied by the blinking screen and his task, it went by unnoticed. Meanwhile, the chosen military satellite continued to narrow down the location of the signal: to Europe, Britain, Scotland, the Grampian Mountains, then……

"S-sir, the signal is tampered. We can't get a direct reading over the south end of the Grampian Mountains."

The intelligence officer was slightly bewildered by the results. Bright red dots accompanied by scarlet words flashed across the screen, indicating that the signal could not be located beyond that region. Cases of misidentification had happened before but never like this. Where the normal interference with tracking signals tended to just make them untraceable to a certain degree, in this case, the signal seemed to be blinking from ten different locations at the same time.

The general stared at the screen, silent for a moment then thanked the officer for his assistance before abruptly walking away, leaving a thoroughly stumped and confused young soldier in his wake.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Cezelia Helesande had been just about to retire to bed, alone, when her husband came striding into their sitting room, dressed in full general attire. She had been a bit nonplussed when she heard from Niles, their butler, that the master had left in a hurry earlier that evening not forty-five minutes after dinner. While it was not her place to question her husband's rights to come and go from the manor as he pleased, he would usually inform her of any additional departures he might have that day, especially if they were late at night. His sudden action of leaving the manor without prior notice was somewhat disconcerting to her and she had waited for his return.

"Cezelia, I must speak with you."

She nodded and assisted her husband to discard the heavy uniform and then waited patiently while he finished his nightly routines of washing. When he was finally ready to speak with her, she was all ears. Her eyes caught his fairly distraught face and she frowned slightly. Jean-Roy sat her down on their bed and took one of her hands in his, his thumb absently running over the back of her palm. He didn't know how to tell her without making her hysterical. In the end, he decided that he just had to be painfully honest about everything.

"Something has happened to Djemn at her school."

Cezelia's hand tightened considerably over his hand but she said nothing, willing her husband to go on.

"I received a letter from her headmaster earlier this evening. It seems that she has been missing for three days and they can't find her even after a full castle search."

"She… Djemn can't be……" Cezelia's voice was faint and her fingers gripped her husband's hand till her knuckles turned pale.

"She is alive. I left for headquarters to confirm that. Her tracking signal is still accessible through the satellite. Had she been dead, that would have been impossible. I have narrowed down the location of the school to the Grampian Mountains in Scotland. I intend to leave for Hogwarts in the morning."

Jean-Roy's words did very little to calm his nearly hyperventilating wife but it was good enough that she wasn't hysterical yet. The couple remained silent for a few moments after that, each having their own thoughts. Cezelia seemed to calm down a bit and spoke to her husband in a soft voice.

"Bring Hadrian with you."

Jean-Roy nodded. It had been his intention all along. He wasn't as thick as to walk into unknown territory without at least a capable escort. Hadrian would be most anxious if he _didn't_ bring him. The tall bodyguard had protected and watched over Djemn for nearly all her life; it would be unfair and almost cruel to him if he wasn't included in the efforts to recover Djemn.

His wife could not rest at all that night. She was agitated and disturbed at the news that her daughter might possible be in jeopardy. The fact that Djemn was still alive only did so much to keep Cezelia from turning frantic with panic. She had been against the idea of her daughter studying so far away from home but had given in to her daughter's obvious interest in the magic subject. Jean-Roy could almost feel the self-berating coming from his wife throughout the entire night. His attempts to persuade her otherwise had not worked, though it might have been because he himself was not feeling all that proud about his accommodation with his daughter's sudden fascination with magic. But he did not blame himself. Self blame was but a pathetic act done by those who did not bother to right their wrongs and instead choose to wallow in their misfortunes. No, it was compulsory that he keep his mind sharp and clear.

Jean-Roy and Hadrian arrived near the Grampian Mountains in his Sea Dragon early the next day. They circled the area in the large helicopter, visually searching for the famed castle of Hogwarts. After an unproductive hour, Jean-Roy knew that something was amiss. The coordinates that he acquired earlier in the morning had stated that Djemn was indeed around these mountains but there was no castle in sight. With controlled emotions, the general ordered for landing and proceeded to search by land, starting with the small little village at the base of the south mountains. A village he later found to be a wizarding one by the name of Hogsmeade.

"Well, good morning to you, sirs. Beautiful morning, today. Hopefully the rains have finally decided to move on. How may I take your orders?"

A curvy, pretty woman with red hair was speaking to them in a pleasant voice. She seemed to be the owner of the Three Broomsticks, an oddly christened inn that Jean-Roy and Hadrian were in. There were not many people in the tavern at the time, only a few old men having breakfast.

"We would like to ask if you know the way to Hogwarts." asked Hadrian.

"Well, certainly! You take a carriage from the north end of town for fourteen sickles and you'd reach Hogwarts in about…. twenty minutes or so. Are you two gentlemen tourists? I'd say it is a rather odd time for a visit to the school."

Hadrian made no comment but thanked her for her help. The two left the tavern and eventually found an early carriage to take them to Hogwarts. Once their carriage passed a line of trees that seemed to shimmer slightly, fifteen minutes away from Hogsmeade, the ancient castle of Hogwarts magically came into view. So, a magical camouflage then. Jean-Roy could not deny that Hogwarts was a magnificent castle, though he would have been more appreciative of it had his daughter not gone missing within its walls.

The walk from the school gates to the entrance doors was a short one as both Jean-Roy and Hadrian were already impatient with the minor delays in their journey. Once inside the school, they followed the sound of voices which led them to another set of double doors. Pushing them open, Jean-Roy found himself standing in front of a long hall filled with children. There were four lengthy tables placed vertically along the hall ending with a single horizontal table on a raised platform. There, sitting right at the middle in a high chair, was an old man with a silvery long beard wearing ridiculously mismatched clothes. Jean-Roy immediately knew who this man was. His daughter had given a detailed report on him after her meeting with the aged wizard. There was no doubt now that she had not been exaggerating about his non-existent sense of colour.

All conversations died as every eye in the hall fell on the two newcomers. Jean-Roy ignored them as he walked straight towards the headmaster. There was only one objective in his mind. He watched the headmaster eye him warily as he approached. Once he stated his identity, the old wizard seemed to age in his appearance and offered that they discuss their issues at his office. Better there than a hall filled with children. They had not gone far before they were intercepted by a pale, skinny man with the filthiest hair Jean-Roy had ever laid his eyes on. And that was including the dirty soldiers he had to face and command during bloody, gruesome wars.

"Mr.Helesande, allow me to introduce Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts and Miss Helesande's Head of House. Severus, this is General Jean-Roy Helesande, Miss Helesande's father."

Jean-Roy's face remained impassive as he sized up the Potions Master in front of him. The scowling man seemed to be doing the same. Inside, Jean-Roy was more than a little confused. Thanks to his wife, his daughter grew up to be one who didn't take aesthetics lightly. Unless the headmaster had been lying or unless there was another Potions Master at Hogwarts, the skeletal, unpleasant man in front of him was Djemn's mentioned favourite professor. Jean-Roy decided that he would probably never understand what his daughter was thinking as he extended a hand to the scare-crow. He purposefully left his gripping power untrained when he shook the man's hand. This power-grip handshake was mostly reserved for people who wouldn't wince at the gesture, namely his fellow generals and military instructors. He was pleased to see that Snape did not flinch at the crushing force.

Then, the four left for Dumbledore's office again. The journey was made mostly in silence as none of the four had anything conversational or pleasant to say to one another. Two floors and several corridors later, Jean-Roy'e eyes caught sight of the first indication that his daughter was even in the enormous castle. Djemn's smooth green snake, Uraeus, was slithering towards them at a swift pace, no doubt en route for Jean-Roy. The small snake was one of the cleverest among the general's domestically bred reptiles. Sometimes he was certain that the snake could actually understand his daughter. It went without saying that his only child was inseparable with the reptile which she, technically, hatched. Jean-Roy had known all along that she would bring Uraeus with her as there was no possible way she would leave without him, school rules be damned. Even while at St.Bastian, Djemn had never been much about breaking the school rules to suit her own needs anyway. As long as she wasn't caught, Jean-Roy had seen no need to stop her. Cezelia had not been pleased about the smuggling act but understood her daughter's dependence on her pet. With the discovery of Uraeus's presence, it was confirmed that Djemn was definitely somewhere in the castle.

The Potions Master noticed the snake mere seconds after the general and quickly moved into a hostile position, with his wand pointed directly at Uraeus. Seeing this, Jean-Roy knew that he had to act fast or face a very upset and angry Djemn when they finally find her. A dead snake would no doubt be the worst possible welcome back present for his heiress. If Djemn found out that he had been present and did nothing to prevent her pet's death, she would easily never forgive him for it.

Moving forward, Jean-Roy stepped in front of the greasy-haired professor and bent down to retrieve Uraeus. The snake slithered onto his arm without reserve, knowing exactly who he was. Jean-Roy brought the tiny reptile close to his person and eyed the once shiny and beautiful skin, now dry and flaking due to lack of attention given to the delicate coat. The small snake was even lighter than he remembered it to be. This caused the dam of worry in Jean-Roy to break ever so slightly. He had been harboring a tiny spark of hope that his daughter had only 'disappeared' to do whatever it is that she had wanted to do and not really missing. Though, he knew that that hope had only been a futile grasp of optimism when he remembered that he had not received the weekly letter from Djemn. Thanatos had not arrived like usual on the past Sunday to deliver his daughter's letter. Jean-Roy had not thought much about it. While it was unlike Djemn to forget, it was also very possible that she was busy or too obsessed over something to write. Now, seeing Uraeus in the state he was in, he was absolutely sure that his child was missing as, no matter how busy or obsessed she was, Djemn would never neglect Uraeus.

Jean-Roy struggled to control his anger as he stroked Uraeus's head. He was partially angry at himself for not noticing something amiss sooner when there had been no letter but he was mostly angry at the Hogwarts school staff. It couldn't have been helped that he had not suspected anything but for Djemn's teachers and headmaster to not detect her disappearance until three days later was unacceptable. They were the people in charge of Djemn's safety and well-being while she was at school and it was now obvious that they were, for lack of more appropriate words, incompetent fools when it came to keeping children safe if what the headmaster wrote in his letter about the Chamber of Secrets was true. A cat, one boy and now Djemn……

Jean-Roy spent most of the discussion with the headmaster listening to him explain the events leading up to Djemn's disappearance and their discovery of it three days later. He noted that the headmaster was at least insightful enough to be truthful about the whole ordeal. The Potions Master, on the other hand, was acting rather twitchy since Jean-Roy retrieved Uraeus. If he thought more about it, both the Hogwarts staff members were oddly wary after the appearance of the snake. It was unexplained suspicious behavior and he didn't like it.

"I will make it clear, Headmaster, that I will not be 'rest assured' as you so put it in your letter, until I have seen my daughter live and well. You have until tomorrow evening to find her."

"Of course, Mr.Helesande. We will do our best to find your daughter as soon as we can. Will you be staying in the castle during that time?"

"No. I will return at the end of the appointed time. I expect to see my daughter then."

He was giving them more time but it was a dangerous gamble. There was the possibility that Djemn's life may be ebbing away that very moment but if there was one thing Jean-Roy was confident about in his daughter, it was her survival skills; and he meant that in more ways than one. Jean-Roy knew that he could take drastic action immediately to find Djemn but that would greatly tarnish Hogwarts' image. If Djemn was going to study there, he could not afford for the school's name to be tainted. However, if they prove to be as hopeless as he thinks them to be, then tarnished image or not, Jean-Roy will proceed with his plans to re-secure his only heiress. Heaven knows he cannot afford to lose her.

Jean-Roy rose to leave, the Potions Master rising with him on reflex. This, again, did something to raise his opinion of the skinny professor. A man with good reflexes had to be a sharp, observant man who was always wary and ready in every situation. Professor Snape was quick enough to match his movements. Even when Uraeus first appeared, Jean-Roy had been mildly intrigued to see the professor draw his wand with such swift and practiced actions. Thankfully, his incantation skills were not as fast as his hands or the general would have a thoroughly pissed teenager when they found her. He considered the professor and his plans for a moment.

"My daughter has written about you in her letters, Potions Master. It seems that she thinks rather highly of you. Let us hope that her judgment was not unjustified. Good day, Headmaster, Professor."

Jean-Roy caught the slightly stunned look on the Potion Master's face as he turned to leave the bizarre office of Albus Dumbledore. It was all well calculated. The expression answered Jean-Roy's question of how his daughter behaved at Hogwarts. If it was so hard to believe that she would favour him, then she must have been her usual cold and uncaring self. It wouldn't surprise him if she was; it was the best persona to take in a new environment. But the small revelation did more than answer his curiosity. It would provide a little motivation for his daughter's head of house to search harder for Djemn. Even if he didn't like her, after what Jean-Roy had said, his pride would not let him relax in his efforts.

The general and Hadrian returned to the Three Broomsticks where they took two rooms. In Hadrian's, they set up equipment and discussed the plans to find Djemn should the Hogwarts staff fail. The black briefcase Hadrian had been carrying was placed on a table and opened to show a laptop, two black Berettas and a mobile phone. The Berettas were placed aside as Hadrian connected the mobile with the laptop and started to establish connection with home base.

"Pardon my asking, sir, but did you notice the odd behavior of the staff while we were in the office?" asked Hadrian.

"Yes, I did, Hadrian."

"Do you think that they had anything to do with Miss Djemn's disappearance?"

Jean-Roy could understand why Hadrian thought so. The possibility of it was there but he could see no reason for them to want to harm his daughter. Nonetheless, their actions had been rather odd and it was already suspicious enough that they could not find Djemn when she was without a doubt somewhere in the castle.

"Perhaps. Keep a tab on Djemn's tracker. Inform me if anything changes with the signal. Then send a missive to Ho. Tell her to ready twenty blood hounds and their respective trainers for air travel. The chances are we will need the canines' assistance by the end of tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

**Author's Notes:** Phew! Nearly got stuck at the end there. And I'm SO SORRY for being MIA for two and a half weeks. My trials slaughtered me. Which will be the reason if this particular chapter sounds sucky. I initially got stuck somewhere in the middle but my sis gave me some boost and here I am, back again. Big thanks to her. You rock, sis. Reviews, comments, constructive criticism are welcome. Flames will never out beat General Helesande's anger.

This chapter is extra long as a treat to my readers who waited for it. Precisely because of that, there may be more mistakes. Tell me if there is any. And what do you all think of the general? I know I made him a bit too emotional and kinda too daughter-loving here, but you have to understand that Djemn's his only child and there are certain other factors as to why he's so worried. As information to readers since I have not mentioned this before but will in later chapters, Thanatos is Djemn's eagle. And I am now entertaining requests for canon character appearances. Need to make the plot thicken somehow. Tell me who you like, dislike, who you'd like to see more and I'll try my best to make it happen. Next chapter might come fast or slow, depending on the mercy of my teachers. Until then, have a nice day, everyone.

P.S. There's a trick to Djemn's tracking device identification code. See if you can figure it out.


	11. 11: The Unplanned Return

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 11 – The Unplanned Return. **

Albus stared at the closed double-doors of his office. The general had left ten minutes ago and still he had no idea how to come about his dilemma. Severus had recovered from his shock and was now sitting quietly in one armchair. He seemed to be thinking about things but Albus did not push to know what they were. He knew that there was always much to think about when it came to situations like this. It reminded him so much of the times of Voldemort. Then, worried parents were an everyday occurrence as the war progressed into its final stages. But it had been a little comfort to them by knowing that wizarding schools are all considered zones of freedom, peace and neutrality. Now, it was a not a war outside Hogwarts walls, but serial attacks on students inside his precious school. In a way, this 'battle' was even more dangerous and heart-wrenching than the one against the Dark Lord. His students were the future of the British Wizarding World and he did not want them to grow up in fear of a deadly monster.

"Severus, please inform the professors that there will be a meeting in my office during lunch today."

Severus scowled lightly at being made the messenger but nodded and stood up to leave. He was already late for his first class. No doubt the dense, mush-brained Hufflepuff and Gryffindor third years were celebrating his delay. With a curt nod to the headmaster, he turned and left the room. On the way to the dungeons, his thoughts in the headmaster's office came back to haunt him. There was only one way to put everything back in order; by figuring out the walking mystery that was Djemn Helesande. And Severus had the means plus willpower to do it.

The meeting during lunch had only taken a while. All the professors were told to search for the girl discreetly, using any ways possible whenever they weren't busy teaching. The entire night will be spent scouring the castle for clues again. None of the students were to know about these plans lest they panic or get in the way of investigation. Albus had already tried various locating spells and charms the day before but they had all come back negative for Djemn Helesande. It was this that made the headmaster so downtrodden. Even as a corpse, the spells would have been able to detect her. Unless she was already … digested … It was a ghastly and horrible thought but it was certainly possible with the three, now four day time span of the girl's disappearance. With heavy hearts, the staff of Hogwarts had no choice but to continue to search vainly for the missing child.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Candles immediately lit up as soon as the door was opened, bathing the room in a bright, faintly yellowish light. It was a sort of study, or library, if one considered the number of books. There was a smooth black desk in the middle of the room. It was partnered with a dark green, high-backed chair that, oddly enough, looked like an executive's chair. On every wall were wooden, in-built book shelves filled with identical thick black tomes. On the opposite wall, there were two doors, one to the left of the desk and one to the right of the desk, both identical as well. The room was clean and a plain mixture of dark-browns and blacks.

Djemn stared. Of all the things she expected to see, this was not one of them. For one thing, it was too plain. She expected more green, silver and flamboyance. For another, she'd have thought that Salazar would've hidden a torture chamber or something of that nature, not a study. But then again, it made sense to hide if these books held information that was too precious, important, or damaging to the founder. Besides, her wish for a real and functioning ancient torture chamber was not dashed yet as there were still two doors left unopened.

Djemn stood by the door and didn't enter the secret room due to two reasons; One, even if the door was safe, the same couldn't be said for the room. Two, there was a mildly glowing scroll floating four feet up in mid-air right in the middle of the room. It swayed gently, as though enticing Djemn to hold and open it. Fat chance. She wasn't touching anything till she knew it was safe. And she was too tired for adventuring anyway. Taking one last look, she stepped back and closed the door.

"**_That one iss not interesssted?" _**The basilisk asked with mild curiosity and confusion.

"**_This one is currently too weary to comprehend the Great Founder's works. This one must rest before she can intrude upon his accomplishments."_**

The basilisk was satisfied with the answer and moved on, leading Djemn deeper into the dark tunnel. They traveled for what seemed like another ten minutes before they reached a winding staircase of stone and the tunnel ended. The staircase led directly upwards and looked to have been unused for a very long time. There were stringy green leafless plants growing on the steps. Here, the basilisk turned towards Djemn and told her the directions she should go once she was atop the stairs.

"**_It iss a sssingle vein of tunnel. That one will not be lossst. Move forward and that one will eventually ssee the exit."_**

"_**This one thanks you for all your aid, Great One."**_

"**_That one iss welcome…… Yesss, perhapssss that one can vissit again……" _**

Djemn nearly smiled. **_"If the Great One permits, this one will impose upon your generous hospitality once more." _**

"**_Good bye, Sssan." _**

Djemn startled at the name she'd been called. But before she could say anything about it, the basilisk had turned and slithered away into the darkness. Djemn stood there awhile, contemplating. She supposed that out of her name, 'jem-hel-le-san', 'san' was the easiest to pronounce by the basilisk; which reminded her that she would have to ask if the basilisk had a name. It was far too tiresome and frustrating to address the snake as 'Great One' every time they conversed. If the basilisk didn't have one, then she'll just have to give it a name. It added to the list of things that she would have to think about once she was rested. Turning, she slowly ascended the stone steps.

The climb was long and exhausting. Step after step came, seemingly unending. And it didn't help that the stone was covered in the stringy green plant that would occasionally make her feet slide sideways. Djemn had to steady herself by the cold stone wall that was constantly on her left. After half an hour, she deduced that she had at least climbed up five floors or so. Another five minutes and she finally reached a landing.

The air here was not as stale or as damp as it was below the staircase, but it was still just as dark. Following the basilisk's words, Djemn made her way forward into a second tunnel. Before long she came to a junction with only the choice of turning right. She went and immediately saw light ahead. A rectangle of light to be precise. It stretched from the ceiling to the floor of the tunnel and was about four feet wide. It took a few moments for Djemn to realize that it was an opening. And beyond it, she saw a Hogwarts corridor. Speeding up slightly, she stopped right before the opening, peering out at the hallway. It was completely empty and quiet. She looked to the tapestry hanging somewhere to her left on the opposite wall and recognized it as 'The Encounter of Lord Duchan with the Frewshe Vixen'. The art piece depicted a half-man, half-duck being conversing with a vixen lounging on a low tree branch. It was a tapestry she remembered to have seen hanging on the fourth floor, south most side of Hogwarts, when she was checking the old map. It was a location where not many students would loiter as it was far darker here and probably the furthest away from main areas like the Great Hall. Perfect for a secret entrance or exit. Though that didn't explain how others have not found this out-of-place large opening in the middle of a seemingly normal corridor.

Djemn looked hard and saw a slight refraction. She raised her hand and slowly moved it forward, fingers pointing up. Right where the tunnel ended and the corridor started, her hand met obstruction and stopped flat against a glass-like surface. She raised her other hand and did the same. With both her hands, Djemn touched the entire surface of the invisible glass-like obstacle that stood between her and normal Hogwarts. It covered the whole opening, not even allowing a wisp of air through. Indeed, as she leaned closer to the surface, Djemn could feel her own breath on her face, rebounded by the glass. She pushed softly, then harder and felt an odd sensation of liquid on her hands. She immediately took her hands from the glass and checked them over. They were dry and perfectly fine. Cautious, she tried again, pushing hard against the surface. This time, her entire hand went through and she saw a silver line on her wrist where the glass surface would have been. Understanding, she pushed her entire body against the invisible glass and fell out of the tunnel, into the corridor. Djemn stood up slowly and turned to look back at the dark passageway that had led her here. She jerked slightly in surprise when she saw… herself.

Djemn stared at her own reflection which in turn, stared back at her. She backed up a bit and saw a large mirror about the exact same size of the opening. It was old and had a frame of wood with claws to latch onto it at all four corners. She saw carved writing on the frame and squinted slightly to make it out. Her eyebrows rose in wonder when she realized that this was Rowena Ravenclaw's mirror. How very brilliant a deception by Salazar. While it was inconsiderate and somewhat disrespectful to use another founder's property as a tool in his twisted designs, it was absolutely ingenious. Not many people would think to suspect their own possessions and hence the entrance has never been found. Here, Djemn frowned slightly. She didn't remember this mirror to have been here when she was at this corridor some time ago. It was so large and conspicuous, it would have been impossible to have not caught her eye.

Her body gave an involuntary shudder and she chided herself. Curiosity could come later. Right now, she needed rest more than anything. Djemn turned and began to walk away, only to stop and stare, irritated, at the floor upon which she had treaded. The wet floor of the Chamber of Secrets, the mossy, dirty tunnels, and the plant covered staircase had all contributed to form some sort of indistinguishable dark green sludge that was now coating the bottom of her boots. Every step she took, she smeared that sludge on the clean, if not a bit dusty, stone floor of the corridor. It wouldn't do, especially since the footsteps seemed to have come out of a wall. Djemn looked at herself in the mirror again. Besides the muck, there was some amount of dust and dirt on her as well. Having no choice, she aimed her wand at herself and did a cleaning spell.

The filth was off but the fatigue intensified. Djemn shook her head to rid the light dizziness that blurred her vision. She had to go. Taking one last look to check that she hadn't left any clues, she turned and left, walking as fast as she dared. Every step she took, she heard her own breathing in her ears and felt her heart pound tiredly with each pump of blood. But she had to make it. Djemn took a glance at her watch and saw that it was almost five, and judging by the light, no doubt in the afternoon. When she left the Chamber, she had hoped that it was four a.m. that her watch read, not four p.m. Turns out luck wasn't on her side. But it wouldn't pose too much of a problem. She was only gone for seventeen hours or so. A simple excuse ought to clear any suspicion. Besides, it was the night between Saturday and Sunday till late Sunday afternoon. There was no reason for her to couldn't have been in her room the whole time, right?

The clock struck five and the bell rang. Djemn stopped in surprise. It was Sunday; the bell shouldn't ring except to signal lunch and dinner. Lunch was long over and dinner wasn't for another two hours. Was the bell malfunctioning? Immediately, students started streaming out from classes that lined the corridor Djemn was in. They chatted animatedly about their classes and the like, all holding books or parchment or wands to prove that they_ had_ been having an actual class. Djemn stood there, thoughts racing. It was obvious that she was in a situation completely not according to her time. The students seemed to have noticed a lone girl standing in the middle of the corridor and once they realized who she was, stopped dead in their tracks, jaws dropping. Some even dropped their books. The corridor became silent when most of the students caught sight of her. Djemn watched them stare at her like goldfishes. This was not good……

"What is going on—OH!"

Professor McGonagall came out of the classroom on her left and was promptly taken aback when she saw Djemn. The professor stared at her like the rest of the hallway's occupants. If Djemn hadn't been so tired, she would have felt irritated at being ogled like a zoo exhibit, but as she was, she really couldn't care less.

"Miss Helesande?" asked Professor McGonagall in a faint voice.

"Yes, professor?" Djemn answered in a polite and mildly curious tone.

The transfiguration professor was at a loss for words and the two just stared at each. While this happened, someone had left a particularly large window, located somewhere further down the corridor, unlatched. Perhaps it was a joke meant for the fourth floor students, that same someone had purposefully stretched the window to its limits, leaving a large gaping hole connecting to the outside. And indeed, luck was not on Djemn's side that day as a strong gust of frigid November wind blew into the corridor, sweeping up skirts and robes. The icy, bitter wind slammed full-force into Djemn from behind, pushing the already tired girl beyond her limits. Djemn's body reacted the only way it knew and shut down immediately.

Professor McGonagall watched in almost horror as the small girl slumped to the cold stone floor. She rushed over and checked her pulse, letting out a sigh of relief when she detected small, tiny beats on the girl's inner wrist, though it was dangerously slow and faint. It was no question in her mind that the girl needed immediate medical attention. The professor carefully levitated the girl and left quickly for the infirmary, stopping only to tell a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect to inform the headmaster.

"Tell Headmaster Dumbledore that Djemn Helesande has been found and is getting treated at the Hospital Wing. And inform Professor Snape as well."

The prefect nodded and went off at once, clearly understanding the direness of the situation. The missing student had been found and it was imperative that the headmaster and her head of house hear of the news. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, moved as quickly as she could to the Hospital Wing on the other side of the castle, Djemn floating quietly behind. Once there, the professor called for the matron who came over from attending to Colin Creevey. The nurse gasped at the still form of Djemn as Minerva gently lowered the girl onto a bed. Madam Pomfrey immediately went to work, using spells to detect wounds, broken bones, bruises, and other injuries.

Minerva just stood back and watched silently. Things were in the madam's field of expertise now. She watched as the nurse's brow furrowed deeper and deeper at the end of every spell. It was evident that the results of the tests were not comforting about the girl's condition. Once done scanning, the matron swept away to retrieve potions for her patient, returning with arms' load of bottles. She set them on the table, all the while mumbling "poor dear", "simply awful" and "must have been dreadful". She moved Djemn to sit up slightly so that it would be easier to feed her the potions. Then, she pried Djemn's mouth open and carefully tipped the, what Minerva recognized to be, Revitalization Potion into her mouth. Instantly, the small girl gagged and coughed, spitting out the potion that had been poured past her lips. With her eyes still closed, she turned sideways and heaved out all the contents in her mouth. Once the potion was no longer anything more than a pile of goo on the previously clean tile floor, Djemn lost unconscious again.

Both Minerva and Poppy Pomfrey were mildly shocked at the girl's strong reaction to the potion. The Revitalizing Potion was by no means a cup of tea, but it was not nearly as vile as most other potions. In fact, it was more bland than anything. Undaunted, the matron tried a second time to administer potion to her patient, only to have the same result; Djemn throwing back out everything the madam had poured into her mouth, this time even more violently than the last. After the second try, the girl's jaws had decided to seal themselves and try as they might, neither Minerva nor Poppy could part her lips.

"She thinks you are trying to poison her."

Both women whirled around to face the sudden speaker. They came face to face with Hogwarts' resident Potions Master.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Severus Snape was not a happy man when he searched the second floor corridors that afternoon. The highlight of his Thursdays was usually the tormenting of the idiotic Gryffindor second years and the insufferable Potter brat then retiring to his chambers so that he wouldn't have to face another infuriating mongrel who Albus calls children. But, and there was always a but, fate decided to not be kind to him, again, and Severus found himself, along with other teachers, burdened with the responsibility to find Djemn Helesande whenever they were not teaching. As if it was not enough that they had spent nearly the entire night before looking for her. Needless to say, this little piece of news had not been too popular with his thoughts. Severus valued his 'alone time' very much and wasn't crazy about the idea that he would now have to scavenge the castle like some rodent, looking for a girl that may or may not have been turned into mush by stomach acid.

However, while other teachers search futilely for clues between stone crevices and statues, Severus had had another plan. Roughly two hours earlier, instead of going to his chambers or searching for the Helesande girl, he had gone to her room. If they couldn't find her before, what makes them think they will succeed in later attempts if they don't bother to gather information? A few words with the previously assigned house-elf and Severus was inside the small potions lab-cum-bedroom once more. This time, he went straight to the book shelf and carefully inspected the titles there. Many were potions and spells based; only a few went to herbology and astronomy. Nearing the bottom, his eyes caught one that had a fairly attention-grabbing name. _Secrets of the Dead._ Cautiously, he eased the book out from between its brothers and brought it up close for a better inspection.

It was a thick oak-brown tome which looked ancient but was not battered. There was no author's name on it, as did most 'dark' or 'grey' works. The title was indented into the hardcover and was painted in fading black italic letters. All in all, it was a plain and bare cover. Severus flipped the book open and read the introduction by 'The Writer'. At first glance, he had thought the book to be relating to necromancy or something of the sort. It didn't. But the title hadn't been entirely wrong about its contents, though it should have been named _Secrets of the 'Dead People'_ instead. The tome held information and records about previous dark wizards or witches, highlighting some of their more obscure secrets and achievements. As Severus scanned through the contents, he saw names such as Dark Queen Mab, Mordred, Red Sorcerer MacDonald, and…… Salazar Slytherin. Checking the page number, he turned nearly three quarters of the way through the book and started to read.

'_It was common knowledge that Salazar Slytherin had been the most powerful of the Four Founders of Hogwarts. Through his brilliance and intellect, this great wizard has managed to create the best wizarding school the world has come to know……'_

Severus wanted to scoff at the apparent hero-worship in 'The Writer's inscription. If this was how he sounded with every other dark witch or wizard, then Severus can speculate the reason why this volume was placed near the bottom of the shelf. Annoyed, he sped through the rest of the biography, only stopping at the third page where one paragraph was emphasized by fresh pencil marks.

'_Among all of Salazar Slytherin's many accomplishments, the Chamber of Secrets remain one of the vaguest. It is said that the Founder had created a clandestine chamber where a faithful servant awaits, its purpose to cleanse the school of unworthy students. The Founder knew that his three colleagues would one day ruin the magical world by allowing non-magical beings, such as muggles, to study magic. Thus, he constructed the chamber to house said servant till the arrival of his Heir who would be the only one able to control it……' _

Severus paused a moment after reading this. He looked at the fresh pencil marks and tried to guess their age. They couldn't have been older than a month, which meant that Helesande had referred to this book only not too long ago, perhaps directly after Halloween when the Chamber of Secrets became the topic of every discussion. It was natural for her to want to know more about it then. But, if she had read this _before_ the occurrence…… The possibility of Djemn Helesande being the Heir of Slytherin had constantly been in his thoughts since the break into her room. With everything happening now, it could point accusingly in her direction or point strictly away from her. Things were too complicated to come to a conclusion.

Since _Secrets of the Dead_, Severus had not encountered another book to have clues on Helesande's whereabouts, but that one tome had been enough. Heir or not, Helesande must have been doing research on the chamber. It would serve her right if she had really been taken by the 'servant'. Putting your nose into where it doesn't belong was never good for health. Severus sighed in irritation, realizing that this was probably the only piece of information he'll get from the books. He hadn't tried to open Helesande's trunk but decided that he wouldn't do it just yet. Breaking ridiculously strong and intricate locking, prevention and anti-theft charms was not his forte, and Severus knew just how fond Helesande was of _those_. The incident of the 'Amazing French Watch' was not forgotten in his mind.

Taking one last check to ensure that everything was exactly as it was before he entered the room, Severus left and started to search/patrol the castle as he was supposed to. His face was dark and scowling as he glided from corridor to corridor, mind occupied. So, Helesande had been researching on the Chamber of Secrets. And now she's missing. Had she found something concerning the chamber or the beast? Was that why she was taken and not merely petrified? Could she be the Heir and was deceiving them all like how she did about her level of magic during her assessment to transfer years? Was she dead? Unanswered questions ran rampant through his mind, crashing and overlapping each other to create one whole jumble of messed up thoughts. Severus turned a corner and was nearly run over by a tall, lanky Ravenclaw prefect. Snarling, he was ready to deplete the avian house of half its house points when the sixth year said something to blow away his prior thoughts.

"Professor! Djemn Helesande has been found! She's getting treatment at the Hospital Wing with Professor McGonagall."

Severus said nothing to the gangly student and made his way immediately to the school infirmary. As he walked (glided), he couldn't quite explain the emotions he felt. On one hand, he was beyond furious about the amount of work and pain they had to go through to find the blasted girl. He could so kill her now. On the other, he was burning with interest and was quite impatient to get Helesande speaking, even if it meant keeping her alive just to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps the simple punishment of detention would do; he would be able to torture her with work and interrogate her at the same time. With that in mind, Severus pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing and entered. His ears were instantly assaulted by sounds of gagging, coughing, heaving and other unpleasant noises. Moving silently over to where the sounds originated from, he watched from behind Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.

Helesande was heaving back out everything the madam put in her mouth before losing consciousness again. When the nurse tried a second time, the same reaction ensued before Helesande decided to clam up and locked her jaw. Minutes passed as the two women tried their best to pry open that stubborn mouth, to no avail. Severus pondered quietly at this. He had an explanation as to the girl's reaction to the matron's efforts. If he was in her position, he would spit back out everything they gave him too. Years of paranoia tended to do that to you. You can never know if anyone's trying to poison you or worse, feed you veritaserum. However, he was mildly impressed that Helesande could give such a response when she was clearly unconscious. It went to say that the girl was conditioned to the point where, even she was out cold, her body would still respond to protect itself. And here was Severus thinking that he was the only one _that_ paranoid.

"She thinks you are trying to poison her."

Both women whirled around to face him, similar expressions of surprise on their faces. This at least made the potions master feel a bit better. It was always comforting to see a shocked expression on the transfiguration professor's face. Once it registered in her brain that it was him who was standing there, Madam Pomfrey turned slightly pink and started to speak in a frenzied tone.

"Well, it only makes matters worse! The child needs these potions! Her body is too weak! She _will_ die if she doesn't receive treatment!"

Just then, the Hospital Wing's doors opened to admit the headmaster. His face was grim as he neared the bed Djemn was resting in. The sixth year prefect had come in with him but stopped just inside the doors, understanding that it was not his place to intrude on the professors. The headmaster stood at the foot of Djemn's bed, glancing at the comatose girl, the pool of heaved up potion on the floor, and finally, his staff members.

"Albus! The child won't take the potions! But she needs them or her body will die of over-exertion!"

"Calm down, Poppy. First, explain Miss Helesande's condition."

"She is malnourished, over-exhausted, dehydrated, and suffering from extreme hypotension and hypothermia."

"There are no signs of injuries?"

"None! But if she doesn't receive treatment for her condition….."

"Why is she not taking the potions?"

Here, Minerva interrupted. "Severus hypothesized that she thinks we're trying to poison her."

"Which is preposterous! Why would anyone want to poison a child?"

Madam Pomfrey was quickly becoming frantic and kept glancing back at her patient's still form on the bed. Albus thought hard for a moment.

"There is no other way then. We will have to use muggle means to administer the potions. Poppy, are you acquainted with the usage of syringes and intravenous tubes?"

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit stunned at the suggestion at first but hastily recomposed herself and nodded before swiftly walking away to retrieve the mentioned equipment. When she returned with needles and tubes, Severus thought he saw Minerva's face lose a bit of its colour. The matron injected the Revitalizing Potion plus a few others into her patient then went to connect an I.V. tube into her right arm before casting a strong warming charm on Helesande. From what Severus could understand, the tube would provide water to the dehydrated girl. Once she was done, the matron cleaned the dirtied floor, bed and Helesande's clothes which have gotten sullied when the girl vomited earlier. Finally, taking one last check, the matron gave a huge sigh of relief.

"Poppy?" urged Albus.

"The potions should deal with the malnourishment and hypotension and the I.V. will keep her hydrated. I'll have to re-cast the warming charm every few hours to keep it potent. But, she'll need a lot of rest for a few days."

"Will she wake during that time?"

Madam Pomfrey looked scandalized at the question. "Well, I should hope not! The poor dear needs all the sleep she can get! Her body is tired to the point where she could have died in this horrible weather. I expect no one to wake her for questioning. It can wait till she is up and healthy." Here, she gave all three professors a mild glare, as though daring them to contradict her. Albus gave a weak smile and Severus understood his predicament. The potions master cast a silent tempus charm and saw that it was 5.34 p.m. The general would arrive in less than an hour and half. Somehow, Severus didn't think he would be pleased to see his daughter lying comatose on a hospital bed.

Suddenly, the Hospital Wing doors swung open yet again. As all four turned to face the newcomer, Severus thought, 'speak of the Devil and the Devil shall come'……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

There were four left. One injured in his left leg and another shot on the arm. The two others were fine but short on ammunition. They'll aim for a stealth attack. Be wary of dense trees and bushes.

Djemn held herself still behind the thick palm tree as her eyes scanned the forest area. It was quiet. Four of her team had been neutralized and only she plus another female cadet were still active. Djemn silently cursed her pathetic team of idiots. Who in their right mind would run out and start shooting wildly when only one out of six enemies was sighted? It was a dead giveaway of their location. A round of uncontrolled, uncoordinated shooting took place and by the end of it, the four males of her team were down, leaving her and Lorella, who were smart enough to not engage in the suicide shooting. Now, with only two members against four in a dense and vast forest, they were at a disadvantage.

Djemn heard an almost inaudible crack of a twig to her left and whirled around to point her gun in the direction of the sound. Five metres away, Lorella's eyes widened and quickly, but silently, made to show that it was her. Djemn lowered her gun and frowned in her team mate's direction then went back to checking her surroundings. After a few moments, Lorella started to move forward and disappeared into the bushes ahead. Djemn was about to move to her right when there were sudden shots fired. She waited behind the tree till silence returned then slowly made her way to where Lorella should be. Keeping behind the bushes, she saw Lorella sitting on the ground with a nasty scowl on her face. She had been hit once in the shoulder and in the stomach. The red blended into her green uniform to become an ugly shade of brown. Two of the enemy were standing before her, wearing identical smirks on their faces. One of them waved his AK47 in her face, taunting her, knowing that she couldn't do anything now. Pitiful imbeciles.

Taking aim, Djemn fired her SIG X-Five twice in quick succession; once to the head of the one in front of Lorella and once to the chest of the cadet behind the idiot. The second male barely had time to react before the bullet slammed into his chest. Two down, two more left. Djemn glanced over at Lorella who moved her arm to show that the shot had been a dead hit. There wasn't a way to help her and she shook her head to tell Djemn to finish the mission instead. Djemn had only just agreed mentally when bullets suddenly came pelting in her general direction. She ducked behind a White Lauan tree as more bullets tried to drill their way through the thick trunk. The enemy stopped firing once they realized that their target was not getting hit. Djemn waited a moment then chanced a glimpse at the shooter. She could see the grey uniform of one of the remaining opponents behind a tall Chengal tree. Cautiously, she moved to aim at the arm prodding out from the safety of the tree's coverage but stopped abruptly. Something wasn't right. The Chengal was a thick tree, completely capable of hiding two people behind it. Then why was the cadet standing so close to the edge, allowing himself to be seen and possibly shot? Djemn's mind worked fast and she immediately raised her eyes to the forest canopy. A moment of scanning and she saw the other opponent hidden somewhere in branches to her far left. He was no doubt handling a rifle, to shoot from such a distance.

Djemn hesitated a moment. It was a long shot and she'll need more time to aim at the sniper, in turn, exposing herself to the opponent hidden behind the Chengal. But it was a risk she'll have to take. Lifting her gun, she narrowed her eyes and shot once before retreating quickly back behind the White Lauan as bullets came for her head. The X-Five lived up to its name in accuracy as Djemn heard a distant yell and the rustle of bushes when the sniper fell off the tree he was in. Only one left now. The enemy must have realized this as well as he started to breathe rather agitatedly. Djemn didn't blame him even if she thought that his lack of control was utterly disgraceful for a soldier. Given that she had just taken out half of his entire squadron in less than ten minutes, he'd have to be retarded to not feel threatened. Cornered, the cadet came out from behind the Chengal and started to fire randomly at Djemn's White Lauan. Djemn felt her irritation rise as bullet after bullet came at the tree. What an insanely stupid person. But she was patient. There were only so many bullets a gun could hold.

Two more shots and then only clicks were heard. The opponent was out of bullets and this was the moment Djemn was waiting for. She knew that it took less than two seconds to change the empty magazine with a new one but that little time was more than enough for her. She came out in the open and fire once, hitting the enemy square in the hollow of his throat. The cadet choked painfully then gasped and stumbled down to the forest floor. Djemn lowered her gun as Lorella, nursing her aching abdomen, spoke to her.

"Good job, captain."

Djemn turned to her team member and opened her mouth to reply……

"Wake, Djemn."

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

General Helesande walked into the Hospital Wing with his companion in tow. They went straight for Djemn's bed and stopped next to it, completely ignoring the stares of the other occupants of the room. The general's face was unreadable as he looked at his daughter's still form. Then he turned sharply to face Madam Pomfrey.

"How is her condition?" he asked in a bland tone.

The matron was so surprised, she merely answered the question without asking for the general's identity. Once he heard about the poor state of Djemn, a light frown appeared on the general's companion's face. The general, on the other hand, remained impassive.

"She will have to rest for a few days but she'll be fine." said Madam Pomfrey.

The general paused for a moment then leaned closer to his daughter. With a steady and commanding voice, he gave one single order.

"Wake, Djemn."

Severus thought it to be a useless action as neither Minerva nor Poppy had managed to wake the comatose girl when they were trying to feed her the potions. He nearly bit his tongue though, when Helesande's eyes snapped wide open and darted frantically around the room, taking in her surroundings. They came to rest on her father and widened even more, if that was possible. From where Severus stood, he could see a disapproving expression on the general's face and the Helesande heir quickly schooled her features to look indifferent. Then, moving with slightly obvious fatigue, she pushed herself to sit up on the bed, despite the matron's loud and vehement protests.

"Father."

Severus's eyebrow ticked faintly. He hated that tone. That submissive attitude that implied that the speaker was inferior to the respondent. He had had enough of that back during his childhood years and later during the reign of the Dark Lord. While it was not in any way relating to him in the current situation, he still didn't like it, never mind that most pureblood families expected this from their children. He was far more concerned about Helesande's reaction to her father's voice. Two words, one simple order was all it took for the exhausted, lifeless girl to snap wide awake. It made Severus think about things he would rather not; such as his student's home life and relationship with her parents.

"Why were you missing for the past five days?" asked the general. Severus saw Minerva frown slightly at the uncaring tone. He supposed she'd thought that the parent would be more concerned about his child's well-being, not where she'd been or what she'd been doing. It was not a foreign concept to Severus; his 'family' never really did care if he was fine. Here, Severus frowned at his own thoughts. All this thinking about the father-daughter business was drenching up unnecessary reflections. He decided to focus more on the confrontation taking place in front of him instead.

There was sincere surprise written on Helesande's face. "Five……" She looked in astonish at her father. Unless she was an even better actress than Severus thought her to be, Helesande was completely honest in her reaction at being told that she had been gone for five days. When they received no answer, Minerva decided to clarify the situation.

"Yes, Miss Helesande. You have been absent for the past five days. None of the staff could find hide or hair of your person. Can you tell us what happened and where you've been during that time?"

Helesande looked down at the white blanket covering her lower body. There was a stony expression on her face and she seemed to be not seeing at all. "I was not aware…… Five days… I do not know where I have been or what happened during that time. It was… Saturday evening. I heard from passing students that Harry had been injured during the Quidditch match. I left to enquire about his health… Then, I was standing in the middle of the corridor, with students all around. And you came, professor." Helesande finished, looking up at the transfiguration professor with a somewhat unfocused gaze. The professor frowned back, confused.

"Where was the last place you remember being at?"

"The… corridor below this floor, near the stairs."

Minerva and Poppy exchanged a quick look as Albus watched Helesande intently. The general and his companion were silent. Finally, Albus spoke.

"You remember nothing at all?"

Helesande gave a small shake of her head. "No." There was a defeated tone to her voice. Albus nodded slowly.

"I see. It is best that you rest now, Miss Helesande. I will excuse you from classes until Madam Pomfrey says you are fit to leave."

Then, Albus turned, gave a nod to the general, and left the Hospital Wing, Minerva following behind. The matron, seeing that her patient was awake, tried to give Helesande more potions to drink. The girl looked at the bottles in mild mistrust but complied nonetheless when the nurse glowered at her for hesitating. The general and his companion though, remained silent. The parent merely looked indifferently at his child. Helesande stared back for a few moments before lowering her gaze. And Severus felt odd. He was used to seeing the girl being defiant. Now, she was acting somewhat submissive and it felt… wrong somehow. Whatever. It was none of his business. He'll deal with Helesande when she's out of the infirmary. Severus was about to leave and give the family some privacy when the general suddenly spoke.

"I will return tomorrow."

The general turned on his heel and left without another word. His companion followed after giving Helesande a small reassuring smile. Well, thought Severus as the two brushed past him, that was a chilly good bye. Not that he was in any position to say anything, being Severus Snape, the pain of the century. He glanced back at Helesande and saw her looking somewhat stony before he, too, left. Outside, he met Albus and Minerva, speaking to the general.

"Perhaps you would like to speak in my office, Mr.Helesande?"

"I will discuss further matters with my daughter present. A meeting tomorrow morning if you would."

Albus agreed but Minerva started to protest that Helesande would still be bed bound to rest. The general wouldn't hear of it and left the professor thin-lipped at being ignored.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn lay on her bed, thinking. The nurse had forced some porridge and thin milk into her before allowing her to rest again. Now that she had a bit more energy, she knew that she needed to work some things out before she could sleep. At first, her whole plan of being unnoticed was ruined when that blasted cold wind knocked her unconscious. Then, she had the surprise of the year when she heard her father's voice and opened her eyes to see him looking at her with a disapproving stare. But it was thank god for his presence that she did not say anything to further damage her situation. Trust her father to know exactly how to tell her that she'd been missing for five days without letting anyone think that he was doing so. She had let the genuine surprise show on her face to help back her impromptu case of ignorance. It was best that she looked honest when she weaved her unprepared tale of innocence. Having that stoned look always helped her get away with things in the past. Plus the subtle detail that she had been 'concerned' over Harry's health had been a very good touch too. Showing that she cared for the Boy-Who-Lived would make it harder for those such as Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall to suspect her of any wrong. She knew there was good coming from being friends with the wizarding savior. Why else would she put up with the trio? And it was also dumb luck that Harry had indeed been injured that day; it provided the perfect excuse for her to have been outside in the evening. The sudden skip in time after that was unavoidable. Djemn wasn't about to tell them that she had woken up in the Chamber of Secrets and had found Salazar Slytherin's secret room nor was she about to tell them anything relating to it really. It was knowledge that she found by herself at her own risk. If they wanted to know, then they'll just have to figure it out by themselves.

The location of where she was last had been carefully picked as well, thought it was in fact not all that far away from the actual place she had fainted. Some might see it as potentially dangerous to expose such a thing but it was actually safer for her to do so. It would fortify any suspicion that she had been 'attacked' by the same thing which petrified Colin on the same night. They would think that she must have been 'attacked' right before the Gryffindor. And judging by the quick look the professors gave each other, she was right. But that only minimized the suspicion on her by half. There was still the question of where she had been the entire time and how she was back, safe and sound, if not a little exhausted. The biggest challenge now was to remain 'innocent' and not to be seen as doubtful in her activities.

Djemn cursed her own carelessness for getting into this situation. She had not thought to ask the basilisk if she had slept for days or mere hours. Now, it made sense that the basilisk had coiled around her to keep her warm. No matter how 'unwarm' the reptile was, it was still better than leaving her on the wet stone floor. She would have died from the cold if it had not thought to do so. She decided she would treat the giant snake the next time they met. And then there was her father. She had been right shocked to see him and by the look she received, he was not very pleased as well. Anyone else might have interpreted the cold look differently, but Djemn knew better. Her father was angry, not necessarily at her, but angry nonetheless. The only reason he would be so was when it was relating to his work or his family. In this case, it was the latter. He was probably worried and upset at her absence but she didn't know what to say to him just yet. She was glad that the two of them had a sort of silent language that seemed to convey this message across to him when she lowered her gaze from his face. He understood that she was not ready to tell him anything and promised to return tomorrow to give her some time to think and sort out her thoughts. But she needed to do more than that. She needed to devise a plan. It has been long since she's last spent a trip to Perspicacity.

**Author's Notes:** I don't know what else to type so I think I'll just stop here for this chapter. Is it good? I tell you, I had this giddy feeling when I wrote it so you'll really have to let me know. Anyways, I think I'll start updating weekly now as it's nearly impossible to type everyday. My teachers are slave-drivers, they are. Reviews, opinions and constructive criticism will be much appreciated. Please leave a review! PLEASE! And flames will be used to brew tea.

To Barefoot Bohemian: My heart swelled after reading your review. Thank you!

To Jariel: You're so kind to leave so many ideas for me. I'll explain some of it here. Draco is somewhat flat because he's still only twelve. I like him so he'll get his part in the story soon, never fear. Djemn is an exception because of who she is but I'm slowly showing more of what her childhood was like so you might understand. About Blaise, vampires, Severus, and necromancy, you set some gears moving but I think they'll turn out as very different ideas in the end. Laughs. I'll probably incorporate them in the far, far, future. But really, thank you so much!

To Memories-of-the-Shadows: Do you really? I'm really happy that you like Djemn's dad. And thanks for telling me about that little snag in first chap. What I meant to say was that they were a pureblood muggle family. But I've corrected and replaced the chapter to prevent further confusion. Thank you lots!

Still waiting for someone to crack Djemn's tracking device identification code. Excluding you, Taugeh, since I've already told you; Don't spoil the fun. Have a nice day everyone!


	12. 12: Hit Me!

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 12 – Hit Me!**

Djemn and her father walked side by side to the headmaster's office. The general had come to retrieve his daughter directly after breakfast, much to the horror of one Madam Pomfrey. The matron had spluttered, argued, and fought within every millimeter of her power to keep the fatigued girl under her care but she was still incapable of overcoming the general's rights as her parent. So, after a short, private ten minute talk between her patient and the general, Djemn had slowly but obediently followed her father out of the Hospital Wing, leaving behind a furious school nurse.

Father and daughter entered the headmaster's office. They chose not to sit when offered and the general went directly to his reason for being there.

"I will take Djemn home until the end of the Christmas holidays. Depending on her health, she may or may not return after that time. If need be, she may only return at the start of the next school year. Do not think to object as it is within my right to do as I please where it concerns my child."

Albus sat behind his desk, looking somewhat stunned. He understood that the general was upset about the entire affair but things could be dealt with in many ways. There was no reason for him to pull his daughter out of school and hinder her studies when she could achieve so much. Her outstanding academic results proved that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Severus scowl lightly. It was obvious the potions master didn't much care for the general's course of action either. However, he was honestly surprised when the first one to object was the subject of the conversation herself.

"Father,… I wish to stay."

It seems he wasn't the only one surprised when the general gave his daughter a rather incredulous look. Perhaps he wasn't used to having his daughter contradict him. And it would seem that, neither did his daughter. Djemn spoke in a small voice, face pointed down at the carpet. During all his years as headmaster, Albus had met many parents and he knew that this was the type who was the most worrisome. The traditional aristocratic pureblood customs made it compulsory for children to obey their guardians. They are expected to do as they're told and act as they were taught. Misbehavior often warrants severe punishment that would leave the child traumatized about the experience, thus never repeating the offence.

The general leveled a hard look at his daughter. When he spoke again, there was a touch of steel in his voice. "We have discussed this. You will return to the manor with me." Then he turned to the headmaster again. "I trust you will arrange the necessary paperwork."

"Are you certain this is best, Mr.Helesande? Miss Helesande is an excellent student. In fact, she is tied at the top of her year. Taking her out of school now would greatly affect her studies." Albus tried subtly to change the general's mind. He realized the futility of his actions however, when the general's eyes gained a cold look in them and he replied in a bitingly harsh tone.

"Then perhaps you and your staff should have thought of that and kept a closer watch on her. I would rather not go into who is to blame for this whole ordeal."

The atmosphere in the office was left tense and strained when the general finished. Albus couldn't deny that he was guilty for losing track of a fellow student of his but it was still unreasonable for the general to take his anger out on his daughter by pulling her out of school. He knew, from his gentler than gentle legilimency on the girl the day before that she had not been lying about not knowing what had happened during those days she was missing. Her surprise was as genuine as her reluctance to leave at the moment. Albus saw Djemn take a breath and look up at her father.

"Father, I wish to stay at Hogwarts."

The general turned to his daughter slowly. He stared hard at her. There was an intense gleam in his eyes and Albus wondered in slight dread if he would give her an even harsher tongue-lashing than the one he gave earlier. He was thrown completely off his train of thoughts when he saw what the general did next.

PAKK!

Fast as lightning, his right hand came up and struck his daughter across her face. The sound of his palm connecting with the small girl's cheek was magnified in the silent room. Djemn's eyes were wide and shocked as her head was left turned at the force of the slap. Her breathing became a bit more erratic as she slowly turned her head back to look at the floor in front of her feet. There was an unmistakable red liquid gathered at the corner of her lips, showing that the slap had indeed been as painful and forceful as it sounded. Albus felt himself boil with rage at the child abuse that had occurred just before him. He stood abruptly with an outraged "Sir!" as Severus gave the general the nastiest scowl he had ever seen in all his years as the man's employer. The general whipped about to face the headmaster.

"I ask you not to interfere, headmaster. This is not a matter of your concern as it involves only the members of my family." said the general in a low and dangerous voice.

Albus glared. He glared as the man turned back to the small girl who looked even smaller now as her father towered over her in rage.

"Djemn, you will _return_ with me to the manor and until I say otherwise, you will _remain_ in the manor. Have I made myself _clear_?" the general spoke in a suspiciously calm tone.

Djemn was still wide eyed and breathing a bit unsteadily before she regained herself and looked back up at her father. She stared at him in the eyes.

"No, father. I want to stay. Here."

Albus was immediately wary of the general's movements. His wand was in hand and as he glanced over, so was Severus's. If the man attempted to hit the child in front of them again, he knew that neither he nor the potions master would hesitate to stun the man, guardian or not. The general was still for a moment. Then, Albus's eyes widened when he raised his right hand again, this time slowly. It hovered at shoulder level, ready to strike a second hit. However, as the moments passed and the threat remained, Djemn did not yield and continued to look up defiantly at her parent. Albus chanced a glance at her face and saw what he thought to be hope, and fear, in her eyes. Just as sudden as when he slapped her, the general dropped his hand and turned to the headmaster.

"Your school has corrupted my child." he hissed spitefully. Then he turned and walked out of the office, not even acknowledging Djemn as he brushed past her on the way. The small girl was now staring stonily at the green carpet on the floor. A large and nasty bruise was starting to form on her left cheek, result of her father's slap. It looked rather sickly on her once tan skin, now pale due to exhaustion. The room was left silent as neither of its occupants knew what to say to one another. Albus couldn't even start to imagine what might be going through the small girl's mind at the moment. Her face remained impassive but he had often learnt in many such cases that it was only so to hide the real emotions its owner felt. He knew now why the child had not seemed like one to him when they first met, and why her eyes were ever so guarded. No child could withstand such treatment from their parents without developing some sort defence mechanism. In Djemn's case, it was to keep to herself and not be bothered by whatever happens to her. Children like this were the most liable to breaking and it pained Albus to know that he hadn't been able to help her when she was right here before his eyes.

"Miss Djemn…" He began softly, opting to use her given name instead of her surname. It would only hurt more if she heard her father's name.

"Excuse me……"

Her voice was low and soft as she turned and left the headmaster's office silently, not once looking up at the two professors. Albus's heart wrenched at her lost, defeated tone. It shouldn't have happened to her. It shouldn't happen to anyone. And it made the wizened wizard feel worse when he thought that he was partially at fault for this situation. He gave a pained sigh and glanced over at Severus. The potions master had an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed angry and at the same time, absent. His right hand was still gripping his wand tightly. Albus knew that Severus's own childhood had not been a good one. Perhaps this incident had brought forth some unwanted memories. But it was also a good thing in itself. At least Djemn would have a head of house who understood her pain and problems. He remembered when his former student would come and ask him if he could stay at Hogwarts over the summer every year. Like another……

Albus shook himself out of his thoughts when Severus moved to replace his wand. He now had a blank expression on his face but Albus was not foolish enough to think that the potions master had forgotten his anger. And neither had he. It was best that the general did not return to Hogwarts for some time. Who knows what might happen if either one of them lost reign of their tempers?

"Severus… Give her some time but make sure she is not alone when she needs someone. I know it is hard, especially for you, but at least you understand." said the headmaster in a saddened voice.

The potions master turned to look at him with a gaze he could not decipher. Then, without saying a word, he grimaced and left the office. Albus sighed.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn walked past the hallways slowly. The corridors were empty as the students were currently still in their second period of the day. It was a good thing too. She didn't think she would like for anyone here to see her in this state. Things were different at St.Bastian. Having no bruises or scrapes meant that you weren't working hard enough. Either that or you're just that good to not have been injured. She was usually the latter case.

Djemn gingerly touched her left cheek and hissed at the contact. It hurt. Badly. And the metallic taste of blood was still in her mouth. She had never been hit hard in the face and this one will be a very memorable first time. She didn't think a slap could hurt so much, or do so much damage. But then again, this was her father; General Helesande. This experience would teach her not to underestimate anything relating to her male parent. But she didn't blame her father for the pain. It was necessary and she had been the one to ask for it in the first place anyway.

Djemn reached the Hospital Wing and went in slowly. The matron was mumbling under her breath as she cleaned one of the bed sheets. Obviously, the nurse was still fuming over her father forcible removing her from the infirmary earlier. She approached the madam and waited for her to notice her presence instead of calling out to her. She really didn't fancy talking with a bruised and bleeding cheek.

"—don't know what he's thinking, taking her like that… I tell you, she'll— Good gracious, Miss Helesande! You gave me a fright. Has your father finally seen reason? Or did Headmaster Dumbledore send you back? I told him you needed rest— … My dear, whatever happened to your face! I couldn't have missed a bruise that size!"

As the matron stared in wide eyed horror at the rapidly purpling cheek, Djemn only shook her head. Seeing this, the matron narrowed her eyes.

"Is it bleeding inside?" Djemn nodded.

The matron pursed her lips and waved her wand near Djemn's cheek. Djemn felt a cool sensation gather at the bruise and then the stinging was gone. She cautiously pressed her fingers against the soft skin and felt only a dull throb.

"You won't feel anything after an hour or two…… Who gave you that bruise, dear?"

Djemn just shook her head. Madam Pomfrey sighed then directed Djemn to one of the beds.

"You are going to rest, eat and sleep. You will do nothing else and you will not leave this wing until you are as healthy as a hippogriff. Do you hear me, young lady?"

Djemn nodded weakly and the matron left to no doubt retrieve more potions for her healing. When she returned, Djemn spoke for the first time since returning from the headmaster's office.

"Madam, I wonder if I could walk around a bit?"

The nurse opened her mouth to object when Djemn quickly added that she will only be for a few minutes and promised to not go far or do anything dangerous. The matron was about to say no when her expression suddenly softened. She could see that the child had obviously gone through a lot and probably wanted a little time to herself before she was confined to the Hospital Wing. And she probably wouldn't have that chance after today as tomorrow was the weekend and the students will unmistakably be loitering everywhere. Plus, the girl will be receiving visitors when they hear about her return. Madam Pomfrey sighed.

"All right. But you will have to let me put a charm on you to ensure that you will not fall unconscious somewhere and lead the school on another wild diricawl chase. I expect you back in no more than fifteen minutes."

Djemn thought a moment then nodded. Once the charm was set, the madam left her to go as she pleased. Djemn left the Hospital Wing and walked close to the classrooms. She listened intently till she found an empty one, furthest away from the closest ones being used, and slipped in. She went to the teacher's table and searched the drawers for parchment, quill and ink. Once acquired, she hastily wrote a short letter and kept the items back in their places as they were before she found them. Then, she fanned the parchment to dry and folded it neatly. Checking everything once, she left the empty classroom and walked till she was in one of the more deserted corridors where she knew no one would see her. Here, she leaned close to a window and whistled a shrill note. Moments later, her sea-eagle, Thanatos, landed on the wide stone sill and looked at her expectantly. She gave the folded parchment to him and petted him twice before sending him off with orders to deliver.

"Take this to father, quickly."

And Thanatos was off, soaring into the morning sky. The timing was just right for her father to receive the letter before his departure from Hogsmeade. A rare, smugly self-satisfied smile grew on Djemn's face.

Perfect.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Blaise prided himself to be a very observant person. He had known about his mother's affair with a younger man even before his father caught a whiff of a hint. He had known that his family had furtively helped the Dark Lord during his reign even if all members of the family proclaimed otherwise. He noticed _almost_ everything, knew _almost_ all he could know about others and thought of _almost_ every possible outcome of all situations. And he knew that his childhood friend was a royal pain and the most spoilt child ever to exist. He just never knew that Draco Malfoy could be so much of an arse when he didn't get things his way. In one day, the Malfoy heir had snarled, sneered, jeered, leered, and insulted more people than Blaise could remember, breaking the previous Malfoy record of 24 people a day.

Blaise looked over to where Draco was lounging on the couch, sulking. The blonde had maliciously kicked away the two first years who were previously sitting there, then conquered the piece of furniture as his own. His face was scrunched up in distaste and misery as he stared at the raging flames in the fireplace. Something lighted in his eyes and he looked into the fire with some amount of interest. Blaise looked but could not see anything. He concluded that Draco was probably seeing what he wanted to see in the fire; namely, a certain someone burning in pain.

The news that Djemn Helesande had been found had spread faster than a contagious air-borne biological virus in high winds. By dinner yesterday, almost everyone had heard of the odd discovery in the hallway. It lifted the students' spirits to some degree to hear that she hadn't died even after being taken by the 'monster'. Most of the Hogwarts' population was relieved and glad but there were also some who had other thoughts. Blaise had seen some of the older years whispering quietly among themselves. Of course, it was to be predicted. With the heir of Slytherin running about, Helesande's status of being still among the living, thought relieving, was suspicious. Normal human beings could only survive three days without food or water. The lucky ones could last up to four days. Since her disappearance, it had been five days, so unless she received sustenance during her absence, Helesande shouldn't even be sleeping in the Hospital Wing; she should be dead. Somehow, Blaise didn't think that Salazar Slytherin's legendary monster was hospitable enough to feed its victims. Either she was very, note, _extremely_ fortunate, or there was something else at work.

Draco continued to sulk quietly, staring into the fire. Blaise could remember the look of utter resentment on his face when he heard of the news. The blonde had spent the whole of the next day being an absolute bastard to anyone who even so much as stood cheerfully. He stomped most of his way to classes and yelled whenever someone disturbed him in his sulking. Even Blaise had been given the evil eye when he told Draco to take it easy. It was evident that the Malfoy heir was beyond displeased but, as Blaise stared hard at his friend, he decided that Draco would just have to deal with it.

Suddenly, Draco sat up straight and looked ahead unseeingly. His eyes were lit with sudden inspiration and as the moments passed, a small but wicked smile grew on his pale face.

"Blaise, I have an idea."

Blaise felt weary and was about to tell his friend that whatever idea it was, he wanted no part in it. But, out of sheer boredom and sake of friendship, he relented to listen. Draco motioned for him to sit down next to him on the couch and when he did, leaned over conspiratorially to whisper in hushed tones. Blaise listened with a skeptical mind. Past experiences had solidly proven that Draco was a mess with plans and conspiracies. He just couldn't carry them out. Maybe it was his boastful attitude or lack of attention towards the tiny details but all his 'ingenious' ideas have always failed, one way or another. However, as minutes passed and Blaise listened, he found himself raising his eyebrows in surprise every now and then and nodding in approval at the thought-out steps in his friends's plan. By the end of their conversation, Blaise Zabini sat in silence, thinking that, for once, one of Draco's plans could actually work.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn was finishing her third essay, this one on transfiguration, when she officially decided that she was bored. She had spent the last two days being in the Hospital Wing with nothing but books and parchment for company. Normally, this wouldn't bother her at all but the books that she had now were tomes that she had already read before coming to Hogwarts. The homework from all five days that she had missed was a welcomed activity to past the time but it was far too easy to completely engage her. She had asked Hermione to bring her the work when they came to visit her on Friday evening. But the trio hadn't been able to stay long as the matron was purely adamant in her decision that Djemn needed rest. Personally, Djemn was sure that the matron would keep her here for a week's duration. Not if she could help it. Tomorrow was Monday and like it or not, she was going to return to classes. In all honesty, it wasn't the classes she wanted to attend. She just had more interesting things to do.

As agreed, no reply had come from her father, lest it jeopardize her plan. Leaning back into her pillow, Djemn could still feel the remaining sense of triumph over her peers. The slap scene had been faultless. She could actually feel the pity vibrating from the headmaster when she stood there looking like some broken, lost child. Oh yes, pity was good to her. Oftentimes, that emotion, coupled with her small physique, gave her exactly what she wanted. Who could resist feeling sorry for the _poor, vulnerable, weak_ little Djemn? And then there was guilt. Guilt of the staff members who couldn't keep her safe in their own school. The headmaster probably felt the worst, being who he was. And that was precisely what she was aiming for.

Djemn knew that she was high on the 'Beware' list since her disappearance but she also knew that she couldn't have that. So, if you can't fight away the suspicion on you, use something else to overshadow it. Making herself look like some abused, neglected little girl was bound to cause the senile headmaster's heart soften whenever he thought of her. Even if they did manage to find something incriminating, the punishment will undoubtedly be lighter and less harsh. After all, it wasn't her fault she turned out the way she was, right?

Truth be told, she was surprised her father had agreed to the plan so quickly. She had spent their ten minute conversation in the infirmary that morning telling her father exactly what must occur during the meeting for her to be out of the red. The general had been most intrigued that his daughter had come up with such a devious little play, though he had been somewhat reluctant about the slap. Djemn nearly regretted asking him to make it seem 'as real as possible' translating to it being very painful. It really _had_ been very painful. But it was needed if she didn't want professors breathing down her neck for the rest of the year. The emotions displayed on her face hadn't all been faked either. She had been partially scared her father would hit her again when he raised his hand a second time. Not that she couldn't take the pain, it was more the sudden apprehension that it was her parent hitting her. The plan had been perfect to the point that she realized if her father was to really hit her, she would be powerless to stop him. She just couldn't. All her training and conditioning was useless against her father and that was what scared her. But it wasn't anything she needed to be concerned about. Outside of his work, her father wasn't much of a physical or social being. His affections and punishments all came indirectly. In some ways, it was much better that way.

Djemn had been pleased too when the compulsion charm worked perfectly to make the madam allow her to leave the Hospital Wing and send the letter to her father. She had hoped but she really didn't think the matron would consent to her leaving the infirmary when she was weak and tired with a monster freely roaming the halls. As soon as Djemn saw her open her mouth to object, she had cast a silent compulsion charm behind her back to change the matron's mind. After that, the insistence on a tracing charm was unexpected but it hadn't mattered either way.

Djemn eyed the small pile of candies and get-well cards beside her bed. Most of them were from the Slytherin first years while some were from people she didn't even know. It was odd but she was sure it would only get odder when she returned to classes tomorrow. Rumours just seem to fly in Hogwarts. She wouldn't be surprised if they branded her as the tragic heroine who got caught trying to save Colin Creevey from the 'monster'. Or she would be feared as the undeclared Heir of Slytherin. As far as she was concerned, they can believe whatever they want so long as they left her alone.

**Author's Notes:** I know, I know; it's short. But I'm having a rather bad week and then there's the case of the plot block that I can't seem to move. I'm feeling rather tired and sickly lately plus I've been having moods. This chap is going to feel like a piece of coal compared to the diamond of last chap and I'm so sorry but unless I move this incredibly big plot block in my head, there's not much I can write about right now. I initially wanted to put the explanation in the next chap but this one was already short enough as it is and I didn't want any of you to think of the general as a bad father. So, next chap, we get Draco and maybe some more… not too sure. Reviews, constructive criticisms, opinions are welcome. Flames will not be much use to Djemn right now. Big thanks to all my reviewers. Have a nice day everyone!

Diricawl – refer to page 9 of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. For those who do not have the book, the diricawl is the wizard version of the Dodo.


	13. 13: Curiosity Killed the Snake

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 13 – Curiosity Killed the Snake. **

Draco stared in disgust at the whimpering, dirty house elf cowering in front of him. Dobby stared back for a split second then quickly averted his eyes downwards. He gulped loudly, not knowing what his young master intended to do with him. After his conversation with Blaise on Saturday, Draco had written to his father and asked for Dobby to be sent to Hogwarts on an 'errand'. He had explained what he could about exposing the sole, degrading mudblood of Slytherin and Lucius had been very accommodating in his efforts to help. The Malfoy patriarch had not been the tiniest bit pleased when he learnt that a muggle-born had been sorted into the snake house but, as it was decided by the sorting hat, there was little he could do about it. Then again, it would be a different case altogether if the girl wanted to be resorted on her own accord; they just had to provide a little 'push'.

Draco glared at the house elf as he gave his orders. The small creature shivered and nodded violently at every word.

"Now GO!"

Dobby tried to control his shaking as he entered the girls' dorms and approached the house elf guarding the door to Helesande's room. Then he stood there a moment, trying to look convincing as he told the house elf – Tripsy – what his young master ordered him to say earlier. Draco and Blaise stealthily hid behind a door and watched the scene unfold.

"Master Snape has ordered Dobby to come. Dobby is to trade places with you for this day."

Tripsy looked at him quizzically for a moment before her ears drooped in obvious distress. "Master Snape is wanting to trade Tripsy with another house elf. Master Snape is angry with Tripsy! Tripsy is bad house elf!"

For a moment, she looked about to cry but she blinked her large yellow eyes twice then frowned at Dobby who gulped again.

"Yous is Hogwarts house elf? Tripsy no remember seeing yous before."

"Dobby is new house elf. Dobby works in kitchens. Master Snape is not angry with yous. Master Snape knows Tripsy miss cleaning castle so asks Dobby to trade places so Tripsy can go clean castle again. Here is proof."

Dobby handed Tripsy a small piece of parchment with Professor Snape's signature on it. The Hogwarts house elf did a simple check and verified it as genuine. Then she threw her head back and wailed.

"Master Snape is so good to Tripsy! Tripsy is must thank Master Snape!"

"Master Snape is busy. Master Snape says to just go clean castle."

The female house elf wailed again, saying that the potions master was far too kind to her and that she never knew he was such a nice person. Blaise and Draco had to bite their tongue not to laugh at the scene. With a pop, Tripsy disappeared, leaving Dobby to stand there with a fearful look on his face. Draco gave Blaise a triumphant smirk and walked towards Helesande's door. Normally, boys were not allowed into the girl's dormitories, but this was Slytherin house and things were always different for Slytherins. As long as no one is knocked up, they can pretty much go and come from either dorm wherever they liked.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Open the Door!"

Dobby gave a whimper and did as told. The door swung open slightly and Draco immediately went inside. Blaise shook his head at the whole situation. He admitted that it was a good plan to use Dobby and get Professor Snape's authentic signature from Draco's father as the necessary proof to quell the Hogwarts house elf's suspicions, but he didn't really think that they would pull it off. So smoothly even. One score for Draco then.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

True to her thoughts, the school had varying reactions to her return. The first person she met after leaving the Hospital Wing on Monday morning was a Hufflepuff third year, who had scampered off as soon as he saw her halfway down the corridor. The second person she met was one of the Slytherin first years. If Djemn hadn't been already used to it, she would have been highly disturbed by the admiration oozing out of the first year's eyes. As she was, it wasn't much of a surprise to her. She met a few more people after that and just couldn't help but feel entertained by their assorted reactions.

Reaching her room, Djemn steeled herself for whatever she might see inside. She knew, from the headmaster, that her head of house had broken into her room to search for clues of her whereabouts when she had been missing. If only she believed that. Favourite professor he may be, but Djemn was no fool to believe that the cynical potions master would not take the first chance that passed to discover more about her. She knew that whatever safeguards he had concerning his house were shaken by her presence and if she wasn't careful, he might just do something about it. The first step, breaking into her territory, had already been taken. Now, she'll have to wait and watch for his next move.

Djemn gave a pre-written note from her head of house to the house elf guarding the door and the creature promptly disappeared with a pop after giving a small curtsy. Taking a breath, Djemn pushed open the door and entered. She stood there, in the doorway, a moment. Everything was… as it was. The bed, the desk, the left side of her room. There was no sign that anyone had entered at all. But she'll see about that. Closing the door, she first went to her trunk. Using her wand, she performed a series of complex checks and detection spells. Ten minutes later, all results came back to state that her trunk hadn't been touched. Opening it, she manually checked every compartment. Nothing. It was perfectly the way she had left it. Satisfied that at least the better part of her secrets was safe, Djemn went to inspect her potions cabinet. She did a random count and casual identification of the more important ingredients and was pleased to find that none were missing. At least the potion-happy professor hadn't 'borrowed' some things. All her equipment was still where she had left them and the bathroom was also free of any sign of tinkering. Lastly, she turned towards the bookshelf.

Djemn was certain she would find what she was looking for there. Any stranger in her room would no doubt at least glance at the titles on the shelf. And any person who had half the strength to break into her room would unmistakably be looking for something not-so-innocent to connect to her. Here, Djemn had used a small trick to mislead that stranger. She knew that suspicion was a human trait possessed by all and that it can drive many people to do treacherous things. Without an outlet for that suspicion, the stranger just might think of something to jeopardize her. So, why not provide the outlet and use it to her advantage? By carelessly leaving _Secrets of the Dead_ in plain view, it would steer away whatever other thoughts the intruder might have about her. The little piece of information in the book was more than enough to achieve the desired results. Now, to see if dear Professor Snape had fallen for her psychological trap.

Djemn went to the bookshelf and eased out _Secrets of the Dead_. True to her thoughts, the book had indeed been moved. The proof was the small slip of brown paper resting on the shelf board. She took the slip between her fingers and inspected it. There was a silvery smear on it. When she had first placed the trap, she used a piece of paper similar to the colour of the shelf wood and slipped it deep between _Secrets of the Dead_ and the book on its left. The idea was that when the book was moved, the paper would fall and rest on the board where the bottom of the book would be. When the tome was replaced, the bottom of the book, which had been lightly coated with silver ink, would smear the paper, thus showing that the book had been moved. It was simple and purely muggle. In her room where light was mainly reserved for her bed and potions workplace, it was easy to miss the small piece of paper camouflaged into the shelf wood.

Djemn stood, silently contemplating. Would Professor Snape tell the headmaster about all he saw in her room? It was possible and Djemn was once again glad that she played out the slap scene in the office. She could use that. Headmaster Dumbledore was more than likely to think that she was turning to the 'dark' because of her abuse. Things would be fine as long as he continued to believe that. The problem now was Professor Snape. She knew that he would not rest his suspicions so easily. He would do anything to shatter her secrets and discover the truths behind her. The man had broken in once, he would do it again. She would need more than just simple spells to prevent it from happening a second time.

Djemn cast one last overall scan on her bed, wardrobe and desk. Clear. Once certain that there was no foreign magic in her room, she took a book out from her trunk and sat down to start searching. It wasn't a defensive spell she was looking for, rather the opposite. If she can't stop the intruder from entering, who's to say that she can't do the contrary and keep him _in_ instead? Twenty minutes passed before she found a suitable spell. So suitable, in fact, that it would actually seem humorous if anyone fell for it. Readying herself, Djemn re-cast all her previous spells and charms to her room. Then, referring to the book once more, she started tracing complex patterns in the air, pushing her magic out from the end of her wand. There was a light pinkish glow where her magic dissipated into the air.

As she concentrated, Djemn couldn't help but feel slightly amiss. She was used to silence but it was quite different without Uraeus there with her. Her father had flat out stated that she was in no condition to care for her pet and had taken the small reptile back to the manor. It was for the best. The once shiny smooth green snake had lost most of its luster in its scales and was mildly malnourished. The facilities at Egypt would help him regain his health faster than any amount of magic at Hogwarts. Plus, it was risky to let Uraeus stay after being seen by both the headmaster and her head of house. It didn't mean that she had to be happy about the parting though.

One last slash of her wand and Djemn felt the spell take effect. Her magic, as though packed into a tight ball, exploded outwards in all directions. It disappeared into the walls, the bed-sheets, the books on the bookshelf. Immediately, the room responded to her touch. The rough stone walls became smooth under her fingers and the air was saturated with magic. Djemn closed her eyes in trance-like appreciation. It was calming. It was _her_. With morbid happiness, her eyes opened slowly and a slightly wicked smile grew on her face. Anyone who broke into her room now would wish they hadn't, for they'd find themselves in a rather…. sticky…. situation.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"**_Jormungand?" _**

The basilisk cocked its head to the side, considering, soft hisses coming from its throat. Djemn watched the giant snake with patience and an odd sort of peace. After securing her room and checking off all the details in her plans, she had gone to attend her first class on Monday: Potions with Gryffindors. The lesson had done much to lighten her mood. Lions and snakes alike had unsure expressions on their faces at seeing her there, save for the trio. Oddly enough, Malfoy had been strangely subdued, as if he couldn't care less about her presence. And that was saying a lot since she knew that the blonde could hardly stand to be ten feet near her without sneering or muttering an insult or two. She knew that she should probably look into this sudden change of attitude. Oh, well. It was a nice adjustment and she hadn't said anything about it lest he changed his mind. Sadly, the rest of the day hadn't turn out quite as well.

After the lesson, Professor Snape had had her stay behind to tell her that, even with her amnesia and supposed uninvolvement in her disappearance, she had still caused a large stir in Hogwarts' relative peace, and thus warranted some sort of punishment. He had given her a week's detention with him in the dungeons, effective immediately. Djemn had figured he would do as much. It was silly thinking if she thought the potions master would let her off the hook. But as she had predicted something of the sort, she wasn't much perturbed by it.

The rest of the week had passed in a bore. Classes were the same, though the teachers gave more attention to the students' attendance. Half the students were glad and fine with Djemn's return while the other half avoided her like the plague. By the end of the week, majority of the Hogwarts' population was steering clear of her. Evidently, whatever the other half was thinking had been spread to the rest of the students. Not that she cared. But that just made life at Hogwarts even more boring. Outside of her room, she could do nothing akin to suspicious and thus, had to put up the good little girl front. It was dreadfully exasperating. There was one thing though, that amused her. Ginny Weasley had taken to stalking her! It wasn't frequent, as Djemn had only noticed the girl twice. And she never did anything besides watch Djemn from afar, but it was enough to set a few wheels turning in her head.

Saturday came and Djemn finally risked going back to the Chamber. In the morning, she had gone about normally: eating breakfast with her housemates, going to the library to do some homework, and loitering around the grounds, making sure she was seen by students of every house. After lunch, she casually entered the bathroom on the second floor. Once she was sure the wailing ghost – whose name was Myrtle, or so she had learnt – was wholly occupied with her own miseries, she hissed at the sink for the entrance – true to her deductions, the entrance did appear by parseltongue – and stealthily used a levitating spell to help her passage through the tunnel. It took a while but she finally reached the Chamber after a rather long (fall and) walk through the underground channels.

The basilisk had been delighted to see her. Even more so after she enlarged the piece of goat in her pocket. The half-carcass had been one of her larger potion ingredients but she hadn't need for it so instead, offered it as the treat she owed the giant reptile. It was gone faster than she could blink. After that, the basilisk had been so satisfied, it had let Djemn rest on its tail while they conversed. It was lucky too since Djemn doubted she would like it very much if she had to choose between the wet frigid floor and cold stone to sit on. Very soon, the two were trying to sort out a name for the snake as Djemn was still with the opinion that 'Great One' was too troublesome a designation.

"**_Jormungand? What doessss it mean?" _**

"**_It is the name of a serpent in Norse mythology, also known as the Serpent of the World. He was the son of a god. It is said that Jormungand's venom was so lethal that it could kill even gods and that his body was so large, he could encircle the world and grasp his own tail." _**

The basilisk gave a low hiss, seemingly pleased with what he heard. Djemn watched with slight enjoyment. It was nice to hear the familiar hisses replacing the silly talk of human children.

"**_Jormungand… acceptable. And that sssshould be my name?" _**

"**_As long as Great One wills it to be." _**

Jormungand gave another pleased hiss and nodded, then more talk ensued between them. Djemn made the basilisk give her its word that it did not and will not tell anyone, primarily the Heir, about her and her forays into the Chamber. She was intent on keeping herself out of the direct line of fire until nigh time. However, she also knew that some sort of confrontation was unavoidable as the Heir no doubt knew all about her disappearance and miraculous return. Ginny Weasley following her around had been a dead giveaway. Fortunately, luck was on her side and according to Jormungand, the Heir had yet to return to the Chamber since the afternoon when she first met the basilisk.

"_**Jormungand, this one wishes to visit the Great Founder's chamber once more." **_

"**_Ssshall I guide that one again?" _**

"_**You need not trouble yourself, Jormungand. This one remembers the way." **_

Jormungand gave a nod, looking somewhat disappointed. Perhaps because Djemn was about to leave? It wouldn't surprise her. The lone snake had been here for so long, any sort of companion would be highly appreciated. Jormungand slithered to one corner of the Chamber once Djemn moved off its tail and coiled around itself, seeming about to sleep. Seeing this, Djemn felt a smile tug at her lips. The large reptile looked simply adorable to her. With a silent sigh, she realized that she missed Uraeus more than she thought. Just as Djemn was about to enter the tunnel that led to Salazar's hidden chamber, a sudden thought struck her and she turned back to the basilisk.

"_**Jormungand?" **_

"_**Yesss, Sssan?" **_came the sleepy reply.

"_**Do you have a gender?" **_

"**_I am from the massculine sssside of my sspeciesssss." _**

Satisfied, Djemn gave a nod and entered the tunnel. Ten minutes later found her standing in front of the camouflaged door a second time. This time though, she simple pushed open the door without reserve. The candles on the chandelier lit with flames again and she deduced that there must be a preset spell to light the room whenever someone entered. She took one glance around, noting that everything was the same, and scanned the entire room with a thorough detection spell. There was magic centred at the desk, the shelf behind it, the two doors, and the floating scroll, the last one being the strongest of the few, but none of it was harmful.

Djemn cautiously stepped into the room and closer to the scroll. She stared at it for a few moments, unsure. In the end, deciding that she wouldn't get anywhere if she continued to be the paranoid prick, she gingerly reached for the floating roll of parchment. As soon as her fingers touched it, the scroll glowed brightly and rolled open to reveal two feet of light yellow paper. It was completely bare. Djemn narrowed her eyes at it until words began forming in dark green ink on the once clean parchment.

_In this room, lies all my accomplished and unaccomplished works._

_They are known by none and are found nowhere else._

Djemn read each word as they formed in precise, spidery writing. As soon as she finished, the words disappeared to be replaced by others in the same hand.

_They are my life's achievements, the very core of my powers and knowledge._

_In the noble name of Slytherin,_

_Use them well._

…

_My Heir._

Djemn's face scrunched up slightly. His Heir? A bubble of inconsiderate laughter threatened to erupt from her, but she only snickered once. This proved her theory that Salazar had been (over)confident that his heir would be the only one able to enter this room. Seemed as though Fate had pulled one over the dead founder. Too bad. His loss was her gain. She was nowhere nice enough or _stupid_ enough to tell the real heir about this hidden chamber if the scroll's words were to be trusted. What kind of idiot would give away centuries of knowledge?

The words on the scroll faded away but it stayed hovering in mid-air. Djemn waited to see if anything else would appear. After a full minute of no change, she stepped around the floating immobile parchment towards the door on the left of the desk. She carefully grasped the serpent-shaped brass turn-knob in her left hand and, with her wand at the ready, opened the door. At first, she could see nothing but endless darkness as light from the study didn't seem to reach past the door-frame. It was as if this room was in another dimension by itself; the darkness did not extend to the study nor did the light extend to this room. Then, there was a rushing sound as candles flamed to life at every corner of the dark room. Now bathed in vivid red and orange flickers, Djemn could make out a closed chamber made entirely of stone. It was perfectly square with no windows or doors save for one thick wooden door on the left wall, merely two paces away from the one she was holding open. There were only four candles on tall holders to provide light, stationed at the four corners of the room and a small narrow table with cabinet space was pushed against the wall adjacent to the entrance. But it was really the floor that told Djemn the real purpose of the chamber. A large pentagram in the centre of a circle, seemingly drawn in blood, now dried and dark brown, stained the smooth stone floor in perfect symmetry. Ancient writings and runes ran along the lines of the pentagram. A Ritual Chamber.

Djemn felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. This was her first time seeing one. It made up for the disappointment in the lack of a torture chamber. She let her mind run wild for a moment, thinking of all the rituals Salazar might've have performed here. They must have been pretty illegal (and gruesome) if he had to do it secretly in his own private chamber. She'll just have to search and see if he had left a journal of some sort.

Djemn scanned the room and the results came back to show that not even a speck of magic was present. Less wary, she moved to the only other door in the chamber and pushed it open. Unlike the others, this door was heavy and swung open slowly. Torches lit to shower the room in steady but dim light, though it was still brighter than the previous chamber.

Djemn stood stock-still at the doorway and stared at the contents of the room in front of her. She saw cages of all types, shapes and sizes, shackles chained to walls, interrogation chairs that looked suspiciously similar to a garrotte but without the spike, thick ropes protruding from the walls and ceiling, a horizontal board that she could identify as 'the Rack', and poles that looked to be for tying people up. Her first thought, once she snapped out of her shock, was 'Torture Chamber' but something wasn't right. Sure, it certainly looked like one but when she thought more about it, these devices were more confinement-based than actual torture. If Salazar had wanted a real torture chamber, where was the Iron Maiden? The Wheel? The Brodequin? Instead, even the interrogation chairs had no spikes. They would look moderately comfortable even, if not for the metal collars. No, this was a dungeon. A place where Salazar kept his…… prisoners? Victims? Experiments? It would definitely explain why it was located right next to a ritual chamber. Careful to watch where she was stepping, Djemn slowly entered the room after the customary detection spell.

There was an odd sort of musky smell in the dungeon. But, as Djemn glanced down at the randomly scattered bones of small animals on the floor, she was grateful that at least it didn't reek of rot. She inspected the instruments and found no traces of blood or organic tissue. So, either Salazar was a very clean person or his unfortunate victims were fortunate enough to not be left bleeding or hurt. Then again, thought Djemn as she stopped in front of an ancient human skull, maybe not.

Djemn ventured deeper into the dungeon. It was not all that big and she reached the other end rather quickly. Here, she frowned slightly. The last two torches weren't lit and the opposing wall was blanketed in darkness. She squinted slightly and could see the outline of… something. One of the torches flickered and she saw a glimmer of something reflective on the wall. Just as she was about to use a spell to light the malfunctioning torches, said torches suddenly flamed to life.

Djemn stood frozen in place, throat tight, eyes wide, wand gripped tightly in hand, as a pair of terribly bloodshot crimson eyes stared back at her.

**Author's Notes:** Yes. Evil. I know. Anyways, I think that this chapter is not as good as I want it to be. I got stuck while writing Draco after wanting to for_ so_ long. I feel like I went too slow in the beginning and then too fast in the second half. Tell me what you think. Just give it to me if you think it's bad. Please, please review as it really keeps me going. Any suggestions, opinions and constructive criticisms are welcome. A BIG thank you to emaji. You gave me the boost I needed. Don't worry, I definitely won't make Djemn weak or dependent. Ever. Thanks also to dear sis for her lovely idea on Djemn's room. For anyone who doesn't know what a garrotte, the Rack, Iron Maiden, the Wheel, or the Brodequin are, they are torture devices. Google will provide you with the information as it is simply too long for me to explain here. Wow, 2.30 am. Have a nice da— er, night, everyone.


	14. 14: Bloody Idiot

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sanderson sisters, or Phoenix Down. I just write fanfictions.

**Chapter 14 – Bloody Idiot.**

"Fordlen! Move up that ladder! Use those muscles!"

Drill instructor Benno continued to bark out orders, blowing shrill whistles whenever he saw something he didn't like. The cadets scampered about, trying to heed to his every word. Edward Fordlen climbed up the rough wood ladder unsteadily then proceeded to crawl downwards on the large rope net hanging diagonally fifteen feet in the air. Cadet after cadet moved like crazed soldier ants, returning to their lines once done with the obstacle course then going again when their turn came.

Artaxerxes watched with critical eyes from the bleachers. Too slow. They would be shot down faster than they could complete half of the course. Their reaction time was too long. Minds were not focused on the task. Still too weak as first year Greens. They would have to do better if they want even a sliver of chance at becoming a second year Green. Rising in the ranks was not as easy as doing your homework and a bit of training. It requires much, much more than that. But Tax knew that he shouldn't have expected so much from the spoilt, pampered princes and princesses. As the years passed, St. Bastian had been forced to accept the lesser students as military schooling became less popular. The result was cry-baby cadets and tantrum-throwing brats. How he loved making them moan and ache with pain after a session with the older years. They all agreed that the younger brats needed all the 'bullying' and harsh treatment they can get if they want what it takes to be a soldier. Even Tax got it during his time. Up till now, not one Bluey or lower Greenie had been spared. All except for one.

Tax sighed as the last cadet clambered down from the fall tower. He still remembered the day that pint sized _toddler _strode into the first year Blues' dormitory hall. Dressed in beige coloured pants and a black t-shirt, the girl had to be no older than seven! The Blueys had stared at her while she looked around as if it was the most normal thing to be standing there. A first year Black had entered with her and the cadets had scrambled to salute the student/instructor. Once everyone was back to what they were doing before, the Black had explained some things to the girl before she nodded and the two left. Two days later, on the first day of actual schooling, the girl had attended classes with the first year Blues, much to the shock of the students. The standard age for enrollment at St.Bastian was 12 and the girl looked nowhere near ten! It was a complete befuddlement to the cadets. Until they discovered her identity. Djemn Helesande, founder and board director General Helesande's daughter. It was no question after that how she got into the school. Tax was a second year Bluey then and had only learnt about all this later from his friend who was in the same class as the girl. Said friend was the reason he was there to see the little tot the first time.

It went without saying that the St.Bastianites didn't take to her very much. Who would? She was a spoilt child who only got in because of her father's influence over the school. She even stayed at home instead of the dorms, arriving at school every morning and leaving every evening in her own personal helicopter. It was ridiculous too, to have her attend so early when her size practically screamed 'bully me!'. Even the youngest and smallest cadets were a head taller and bigger than her. She would be the biggest bully victim since the school's founding. They had no idea how wrong they would find themselves to be.

Not only was she a star-student, Djemn Helesande was in no way an easy target. After the first month of school, the other Blues finally couldn't stand her beating them to dust in both academics and training and had started to harass her. At first, it was mean words and insults but Djemn had barely batted an eyelash. Then, it was sabotaging her during training but it never worked as she would only evade or block or repair and continue as if nothing had happened. They finally openly challenged her in hand-combat to humiliate her in front of the other students during one of the combat classes. Djemn had accepted their challenge then completely demolished her opponent in simple Karate moves. The worst realization had come when the Blues saw that she wasn't even breaking a sweat. That had been the end of the Blues' harassment.

A year passed and all the Blues rose in rank. Tax had been promoted to the rank of first year Green and was looking forward to another three years of grueling pain. What he wasn't prepared for though, was Djemn Helesande appearing as his classmate. The girl had been skipped a year and had gone from first year Blue to first year Green, bypassing her second year as a Blue. It was a nasty shock for the Greens. All of them had gone through two years of harsh training and preparation as Blues to reach their current rank while she just waltzed right into their midst. To say that a few hearts had been displeased would have been a major understatement. And thus, began the Greens' torment on Djemn Helesande.

Tax, for the most part, just disliked the girl. He himself had never met her and none of his friends had bothered to try. But rumours do a wonderful job of poisoning one's mind. With so many people against her and the teachers favouring her seldom-imperfect work, it was hard to ignore the little devil whispering in his ear. However, all that changed when he was partnered with her for the first weapons-combat duel of the year.

Tax had always had a strange gift of sorts. He could see things. Not ghosts or angels or the like. Just weird monochrome shadows which usually clung close to some particular people. They had no shape or pattern and it was always different for every person. Once, he thought that they were the souls of other people. But he hardly ever saw them anymore after turning nine. It was an ability unexplainable by logic and Tax had been forbidden to tell anyone about it, including his father, by his mother. Until he met Djemn, he had never understood a single thing about his ability.

She glowed. No, it was more like the shadow glowed but it was so near to her that it seemed as though she was glowing. A reflective purplish pink shadow hovered so close to her that Tax had a hard time trying to keep up with the movements of her sword as she slashed it continuously at him. Being near one for the first time, Tax was more concerned about keeping himself away from the shadow and as a result, had done quite badly in the duel. After being berated by the combats master for his lack of attention and effort, he had looked over at Djemn. She was still glowing, though it seemed to have dimmed somewhat. And she was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Perhaps something had shown on Tax's face when he was struggling with the shadow but whatever it was, Djemn probably didn't deem it important as she carried on ignoring him and the rest of his rankmates. It was then that dislike turned into fascination.

Tax started to observe Djemn in everything that she did. He took notice of how she disliked company, especially if said company had an ever-yapping mouth. He found out that, despite how small she was, Djemn was already ten years old. He also found out that if she was angry, irritated or serious, the glow of her shadow would grow brighter and vice-versa. He started talking to her. Constant staring became occasional greetings. Occasional greetings became short (one-sided) conversations. The conversations became friendly jokes and after a full year, Djmen Helesande finally responded to him as a friend. Sort of. She was still cold and aloof but she would answer if he called. Well, it was usually because he's right behind her when he called and she didn't like being followed. His reason for doing so was because he discovered, shortly after her acceptance of him as a sort-of friend, that when he was near her shadow, he would experience a soothing sensation. It wasn't a romantic emotion, just calming. Like how one would feel when standing at the beach in the cool sea breeze.

Then, out of nowhere, he had slowly begun to understand that the shadows he saw were the essence of their masters. People with relatively strong spirits would have a shadow of their souls floating near them. Some people could have strong spirits but have little control over them, thus displaying a shadow which seems to float slightly away from their body. The closer the shadow to one's person, the stronger control one had over one's mind, body and soul. Djemn's shadow was intense and nearly overlapping with her own physique. Tax could only guess what she had to go through to have so much power over herself. Or maybe she had been born that way? He would never know. It's not as if he could just up and tell Djemn that she has a pinkish phantom of herself floating behind her then ask if it's always been that way.

When the end of Djemn's second year at St.Bastian came, Tax had found himself feeling anxious. If Djemn skipped a year again, all his previous efforts to secure a friendship would be wasted. He knew that the girl was as much a workaholic as her father and that she wouldn't think twice about him if doing so meant putting aside her training and schoolwork. However, Fortune had smiled on him and Djemn hadn't managed to skip another year, meaning she will still be his classmate in second year Green come next school term. Tax had asked himself then, if he was such a horrid person as to feel happy at the small girl's discontent and use her shadow for his own contentment. Thoughts like this nearly made him break his promise to his mother and reveal his secret to his friend. Somewhere in his conscience, it only felt right if Djemn knew about his true ulterior motive when he became her comrade.

Second year as a Green, Djemn worked harder than before. It seemed she was more determined to become a Black than Tax thought. Her shadow was constantly alive with brilliance. And Tax had understood something. She was happy working hard. It was what she did best. In the end, Tax never did tell her about her shadow. Instead, he became a true friend. Without thinking about the shadow, he treated her as a person. Because of that, their second year together was much more productive, both in terms of friendship and training. With Tax copying many of Djemn's practice habits and skills, they were constantly at the top. This of course, attracted jealousy from other cadets. More sabotage came in the form of false news and damaging rumours. Though, neither Tax nor Djemn had been too bothered by them. But this had only made the green-eyed cadets, no pun intended, try harder.

Tax didn't know the finer details as Djemn refused to tell him but from what he had heard, he gathered that one of the Greenies in Djemn's elective classes had struck a nerve. It seemed the idiot had impaired Djemn's bow before one of their archery practice sessions. When she tried to arch an arrow, she had felt the difference and immediately flung the bow away from her. Not a moment too soon too. The cable had snapped and whipped the polished wood floor of the archery room, leaving two long scars. It was shuddering to think what might've happened if Djemn hadn't been as observant as she was. The cable would've caused quite a bad injury. Tax had heard, from one of Djemn's classmates, that her expression was so dark then, he thought she had burst a blood vessel. And Tax had almost felt sorry for the person behind the sabotage.

Three days later, said person had mysteriously withdrawn from the school. Something about St.Bastian being not right for him. Hah, as if. If he had wanted to pull out, he would've done so sooner, instead of waiting till second year of Green. The charge for the facilities at the academy was not so cheap that one would enroll just for the heck of it. No, it had something to do with Djemn but damn if she would say anything about it. The students didn't know about the actual happening, but the rumours did their job and pretty soon, Djemn and Tax were left alone again.

Alas, Fortune strikes only but once. At the end of their second year as Green, both had been promoted; Tax to third year Green and Djemn to first year Black. He had been genuinely happy for her. He knew more than anyone that she had deserved it. And did she know it too. Black was the highest ranking colour in St.Bastian Private Academy. Students who were seriously considering profession in the military would be given the choice to follow their programme. While studying the finer points of being a commanding officer, Blackies are required to train their junior ranks as practice. And Djemn was all about practice.

Not many, and if Tax was honest, _none_ of the cadets were happy with the fact that they were going to be trained by a girl the size of a primary school child and the age of a first year Bluey. Though Djemn had only taken on the first and second year Blues, they were still discontented and would, more often than not, play hooky or disobey her orders. It didn't last though. Djemn had, literally, beat some sense into them. For Blacks, they had the authority to do whatever they wished to their cadets, as long as it remains within the ethical code, to ensure the desired results. True enough, no one dared to be AWOL after that and Tax had watched with growing amusement and awe as Djemn's cadets started to gain some semblance of caliber.

Three months into the year came the annual May tournament. It was a yearly competition between cadets in order to accumulate points. These points were recorded and referred to during practical exams to judge the expertise of a cadet in a particular field. So, the more points the cadets scored during the tournament, the easier it is for them to pass during the actual assessment. The tournament consisted of many different crucibles designed to test various aspects of a cadet. So, both Blues and Greens had an equal chance in scoring. The Blacks were the moderators and it was their role to make sure that no one cheated in the tournament.

It came as a surprise to many when Djemn's second year Blueys managed to accumulate the third highest points in the tournament. The whining, slacking group had somehow been transformed into an actual troop of cadets. Said cadets had been overjoyed at their success. They began to pay more attention to their miniature instructor and had even followed her orders no matter how unreasonable it sounded. The results had turned out to be very gratifying. It was long overdue but Djemn finally received the respect she deserved.

Then, August came and Djemn had announced that she would be leaving for another institute in Scotland the month after. Her declaration was met with varying degrees of shock. Many of her cadets, who had gotten used to her cold and harsh ways, didn't want her to leave. The academy instructors were at a loss as they had believed she would stay until her graduation as a second year Black. The Greens, on the other hand, had been put out that they wouldn't have a chance at experiencing the 'Hell Blackie'. But Tax had been the most speechless. Djemn hadn't said a word about her plans to him. Of course, she had no obligation to do so but it would have been the sort of thing one friend told another. Especially since Tax seemed to be her only friend at the academy. Even a warning would have sufficed. But no. He knew nothing about her leaving the country. It left a sort of bitterness in him as the day of her departure grew nearer.

The week before her going, Tax had asked for a talk with her. In the end, they didn't do much talking at all, being who Djemn was. Instead, Tax had taken the opportunity to think back about the last two and a half years they have been friends. He had learned so much just from watching her and thinking like her. Her shadow had been a constant source of comfort. And as they sat quietly under a tree that afternoon, Tax had suddenly realized that she hadn't changed at all. Djemn was still the same person he had first approached when he was nothing but curious about her shadow. The thought gave him a feeling of peace. Knowing that his friend wouldn't change and that she would always remain the cold, calculating, deceptive girl she was. He hadn't really cared after that, what her reason for leaving was. If she hadn't told him, then she won't even if he asked.

Tax stood from the bleachers with a deep sigh. The trip down memory lane was over and the sun had long since become a crimson yolk in the sky. In a few days, Dejmn would have left the school for a total duration of three months. It was not her to write, so Tax could only phantom how much agony she was inflicting upon the students at her new school. Probably very much. He snickered as he hoped down onto the sandy ground and began walking towards one of the Greenie cafeterias.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

She never thought Salazar to be a trophy kind of person. There were none displayed in the common room and she hadn't seen one in the study earlier. In fact, if she thought more about it, there wasn't even one mention about him receiving something akin to an award in all his accomplishments. So, it was more than a little surprise for her to find the crucified body of a man fastened to the dungeon wall.

Djemn eyed the dry corpse warily. The skin, tightly drawn along long, narrow bones, had long since become a dark shade of brown. It looked more like a layer of desiccated animal pelt, dried numerous times under a scorching sun. The bones, though still in positions and not crooked, seemed as brittle as twigs. The eyes were sunken but not empty socket holes. Long, withered, wavy red hair was still attached to the skull. All in all, it looked as though the man had died not too long ago, but Djemn knew better; she was pretty sure some sort of preservative was keeping the corpse in that condition. Nothing else could explain the lack of stench resulting from human decomposition, as the body was clearly not done decaying; there was still too much biological tissue left. Plus, everything led to Djemn believing that these rooms have not been opened for a thousand years. Therefore, the only possible explanation was that Salazar had preserved then crucified the corpse onto the dungeon wall as his personal trophy, ten centuries ago.

Djemn stood there for a moment, thinking. Then, just to be on the safe side, even though it was clearly _very_ obvious where it concerned the man's status of being, she performed a health check on the body. The result came back to state that the man was, indeed, dead. It was a little more comfort to her, knowing that it was undeniably her own imagination that led to her seeing the bloodshot eyes. In the dungeon where there was little light and the atmosphere screamed 'horror movie!', it wasn't unreasonable for her to imagine things that weren't there. The human mind was unpredictable and playful, among other things. Djemn was not that proud that she wouldn't admit to her own flaws and tendencies.

She studied the crucified man a moment longer before moving closer. He was nude but wrapped in a long, narrow piece of white cloth. The wrappings were not tight and consistent like a mummy's, but rather lose and haphazardly enfolded enough times around each limb to prevent major movement. Closer inspection revealed that the edges of the fabric were dyed in dark blue. There were writings on the cloth: ancient runes and words in a language unfamiliar to Djemn. She turned to look at the wall beside the corpse. On the space to the man's left, under his left arm, was a gold plaque fastened to the stone wall.

_**HERE BE MILESIUS**_

_**SEALED IN YEAR 863**_

_**BY SALAZAR SLYTHERIN**_

Milesius? The name was vaguely familiar to Djemn. She must have read it once somewhere, a long, long time ago. It was only once, but it was enough for her to have a faint recollection of the word. With that thought, she deducted that this man must have had connections with the non-magical world. Hopefully, Salazar had left explanations in his study or Djemn would have to painstakingly search through her manor's entire library, which wasn't very easy considering its size.

Djemn examined the plaque again and saw that it was made of solid, genuine gold, the writings craved by hand. Wizard, muggle or magical creature, whoever this person was, he must have been important to warrant such posh treatment. Salazar had either treasured him so much that he would preserve and make a gold plaque in memory of him, or Salazar had hated him so much that even in death, he wanted the man to forever be a trophy in his dungeons. Djemn was more inclined to believe the latter. Salazar Slytherin didn't strike her as the 'Friendship Lasts Forever' kind of man. Besides, the crucified position and deshabille state of the man made it a very poor last resting place. Or perhaps Salazar was just that kinky. She wouldn't know.

Djemn stood there a moment longer, just staring and thinking. Finally, deciding that gawking at a dried up, half-dressed corpse for an entire afternoon wasn't something she'd fancy doing, Djemn left the dungeon and returned to the study. From there, she moved to open the last door. Not knowing what to expect, she blinked once when she found what appeared to be a potions workroom behind the door to the right of the black desk. An extremely_ normal_ potions workroom. In fact, even Professor Snape's classroom looked more dramatic. There was nothing on the shelves, all the cauldrons were tucked neatly away, and there were only six clean stoves available for brewing. Everything was in shades of grey and black. Nothing in the room indicated that it was once owned by one of the most powerful wizards of all time.

Djemn stood back and closed the door, slightly let down. Of course, she understood that the founder had probably needed the workroom to brew some of his more illicit concoctions and the purpose of the room was little more than that, but still. Djmen moved over to the tall, dark green, executive's chair look-alike and carefully sat down. Let it not be said that Salazar Slytherin had bad taste. The chair was amazingly comfortable. She suspected magic was involved. The cushions were soft but not soft enough to make one sink in, neither was it hard enough to cause a flat bottom after long periods of sitting. Djemn was definitely looking forward to longer visits.

She looked down to the top of the desk and was perplexed to see the scroll lying there. She hadn't realized it earlier but the scroll was no longer floating in mid-air and was now resting, not-glowingly on the desk. Djemn unrolled it and examined the blank parchment carefully. There was magic in it yet. Every inch of paper was still clean and crisp, as though new. No doubt the work of another preserving charm.

As soon as that thought passed through Djemn's mind, dark green words began forming on the parchment.

_Preserving Charms_

_Page 114 – 325_

_Book 016_

_Shelf I_

Djmen stared at the words for a few moments. Could it be? She immediately tried thinking of something else: human anatomy.

_Human Structure Catalog_

_Book 153_

_Shelf IX_

Glancing up and around, she noticed that there were indentations in the wooden ceiling above each shelf. There were three shelves on her left, three on her right, four in front of her and one behind her. The shelf nearest to her left was labeled I, followed by II, and so on, moving clockwise until it ended with X, the Roman number for ten above the shelf nearest to her right. Shelf IV, V and VI, VII were respectively on the left and right of the entrance door. According to the silver numbers on the spines of the books, there were two hundred books per shelf, starting from 001 to 200 then returning to 001 on the next shelf.

Djemn wandlessly used a low-level summoning spell and Book 153 floated over to her from its place on shelf IX. The book was entirely about the human body. However, besides the usual notes dictating the functions and construct of tissues, there were also annotations on how to heal said tissue and how to utterly destroy it. Even the tiniest details were included. How very pleasing.

Djemn looked back down to the scroll on the desk. She knew its function now. It was a sort of index. An Index Scroll, showing her exactly where to find whichever book she needed. It was brilliant of Salazar to think of something so convenient. Placing the book on the desk, she turned her chair around to look at the last shelf, the one behind her. It was the only one without a number. But that was not where the difference ended. This shelf was twice wider than the others. Not unlike the rest, it was also partitioned into eight racks but the fourth and fifth rack was partitioned again into even more compartments. These small, box-like spaces were used to store various kinds of ornaments.

Djemn got up and went closer to the shelf for a better look. On the fourth rack, in the compartment furthest to the left, there was a small, woven strap with a bluish green orb attached at the end. To the right, she saw a petite, portable mirror encased in what seemed to be blue metal. Then, there was a Viking-like horn. Her eyes came to rest on a ring placed directly in the middle of all the devices. It was a simple silver ring shaped as a band with two serpent heads biting into an emerald. Djemn gingerly picked it up and inspected it. When she could find nothing strange about it, she reached over for the Index Scroll.

_Chamber Ring_

_Page 30_

_Artifacts_

There was no shelf number. Indeed, as Djemn's eyes searched the last shelf, each book had a proper name and not just digits on their spines. Finding 'Artifacts', she summoned it down to her and began reading. By the end of the page, what was commonly known as a wicked smile grew on her face as one thought went through her mind. This makes things_ so_ much easier.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

They were up to something. Harry was much too unfocused on his potion and Ronald just seemed fidgety. Djemn was expertly brewing her own Swelling Solution while keeping an eye on the activities going on in the potions classroom. Draco Malfoy was being an arse, as usual, by flicking puffer-fish eyes at the trio. They wisely ignored him. Professor Snape, on the other hand, was being his customary snappish self to the Gryffindors. Everything seemed fine… Normal…… But experience had taught Djemn that situations like these were never normal.

It had been nearly two weeks since her visit to the hidden chamber. Over the course of that time, she had returned numerous times. It was easy with the help of the Chamber Ring. She smiled fondly as her thumb discreetly caressed the smooth silver band around her left middle finger. During her visits, Djemn had taken to reading Salazar's logs and journals. It seemed that the founder had an obsession with 'experimenting', his favourite fields being potions, spells and transfiguration. It was clear now what the cages in the dungeons were for: his experiment guinea-_humans_. Djemn was also mildly surprised to find that the artifacts in the study were in fact, weapons, though some, like the ring, were made for convenience. She had made a mental note then, never to open the mirror when it was facing herself and never to blow the horn. She did take the orb and ring, however. Using a glamour charm, she constantly had both on her person at all times. It was too dangerous to do otherwise.

As soon as the professor turned to harass Neville, Djemn saw Hermione give Harry the tiniest nod. Careful to seem as though she was paying attention to her stirring, Djemn watched as Harry ducked behind his cauldron and took out a firework from his robes. He gave it a tap with his wand then straightened up, eyes searching. Djemn understood his intention immediately. Stealthily, she slid her wand out from her sleeve and cast a silent corporeal shield spell. True enough, Harry lobbed the whizzing firework high into the air before it fell into Goyle's cauldron with a soft 'plop!'.

The cauldron exploded and students ran wildly for cover. Swelling Solution splashed everywhere, enlarging everything it came into contact with. Djemn tried not to quirk a smile at the sight of an unfortunate boy who had acquired a fairly healthy bosom thanks to the potion. She herself wasn't affected due to the shield, though she did step out of the way to seem as though she was avoiding the splashes. Wouldn't do to stand like a statue when everyone else was running amok.

"Silence! SILENCE! Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft. When I find out who did this……"

Half the class went to the professor's desk as he issued out vials of the antidote. Djemn's eyes flicked over to the trio and one dark eyebrow rose in surprise when she couldn't find Hermione with Harry and Ronald. Moments later, she saw the bushy-haired girl re-enter the classroom with something in her robes, the door she just exited being one which led to the professor's private stores. Ah. So it wasn't merely a futile suicide mission to get back at the potions master. At first, Djemn had thought that the trio had hit their heads in the last class, attempting to do something so stupid and ridiculously risky. But, it seems the ends outweighed the means. They obviously had something they needed from the potions master's stores. Well, applause to them if they manage to pull it off.

Once everyone no longer had any bloated body parts, Professor Snape went to Goyle's cauldron and inspected it for a moment before producing what seemed to be the bent, burnt remains of a firework. The class fell into a hush as they stared at the twisted fire-rocket hanging from Goyle's ladle in the professor's hand.

"If I ever find out who threw this, I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled."

Faces paled at the professor's words and Djemn had to bite her tongue to not smile. Potions class is just so_ precious_.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Severus knew it was Potter. He just knew it! No one else dared to pull such a stunt in_ his _classroom, save the accursed Weasley doppelgangers. He swears, the two families were put on earth to torment him for life. First it was James Strut-Like-He-Owns-The-World Potter, then it was Fred and George We-Are-Your-Worst-Nightmare Weasley and now, it was Harry I'm-The-Freaking-Boy-Who-Won't-Die Potter! Fate had never been kind to Severus but all he asked was that it be less of a bitch when it came to him. So his fucked-up childhood wasn't enough, let's throw in a Dark Lord and a pain-in-the-ass Boy-Savior as well. How simply spiffing!

Severus hadn't forgotten about the Helesande girl as well. In fact, if it wasn't for her, he might have caught insufferable Potter before he threw that blasted firecracker into Goyle's cauldron. As it was, he was too caught up thinking and observing the mudblood Slytherin to have noticed Potter attempting to destroy his classroom. If only his back was not turned at that time……

Djemn Helesande was still the enigma to him. After the little scene in the headmaster's office, Severus had followed the old wizard's advice and had given his curiosity a time-out. He had heard from Madam Pomfrey that "whatever the poor dear went through" had left a very nasty bruise on her cheek by the time she reached the Hospital Wing. Then, it was not sympathy he had felt for the small girl, perhaps more of kin. He had known what it felt like to be hit and bruised. One never got used to the feeling even after so many times. And he understood the need for solitude whenever that happened so he had been considerate enough to give her the few days in the infirmary. After her recovery though, it was a different story.

Abuse victim or not, Severus had an obligation to find out what had happened to one of his charges. He found it very hard to believe that Helesande was totally clueless about what had happened during her disappearance. It was true that she had been surprised, confused and disoriented when they first found her but even after her recovery, things were still too odd, strange. He knew there were things she hadn't told them. In fact, the whole disappearance continued to seem more like an elaborate play of sorts, the scriptwriter being Helesande. On one hand, Severus had called himself silly for thinking of such a thing. Djemn Helesande was a twelve year old girl, not a scheming hundred-something year old evil witch. Then, on the other hand, Djemn Helesande was a Slytherin raised by a general who seemed like he would be rather good friends with the Dark Lord. Severus wouldn't put it past her to be capable of running the world in circles.

To answer his queries, he had given her detention under the lie that she had caused uproar in the school. The girl had accepted as though she had been expecting the act. Then, during each detention where he instructed her to perform mundane tasks in the potions classroom while he graded essays, he had gently tried legilimency on her. The results were unexpected as he found himself with a natural occlumens. He had hoped that the first few times had been flukes and that he would be able to penetrate her mind if he seriously attempted to but alas, it was not to be. The few times he had managed to get a glimpse of her mind, all he saw was a round stone room with nothing in it. It was most peculiar but tried as he might, he didn't manage to get even a slip of information from her. So, every evening for five nights, he always ended up watching her work on ingredients, washing cauldrons and labeling vials instead. It was through these observations that he noticed how expertly her hands moved with equipment, as though she was all but used to cleaning and practical work. And for a moment, he had seen a memory of himself, cleaning the kitchen supplies when he was eight.

After that week of detention, he gave the girl a wider berth, hoping to catch her when she made a slip instead of hovering above her like a vulture. It was hard though, because all Helesande ever seemed to do was attend classes and study in her room. The most anyone saw her was during meals and lessons before she shut herself away. It was many a times Severus had wanted to invade her room again, just to see what she was doing inside, but he knew better. The security would be thrice as strong after the last break-in and he was not stupid enough to try again.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

_In the year 849, in order to investigate the alarming increase of witch hunts, I traveled to Salem. There, I met three of the most intriguing witches. Notorious for their twisted ways, the Sanderson sisters, Winifred, Sarah and Mary used some of the oddest methods in their magic. They used only the purest and roughest of potion ingredients while relying solely on their raw power without using a wand or object of channeling. Their most prized possession was the Eotonweard Book which, true to its name, has a functioning eye embedded into the hard cover. I spent some time with the sisters and learnt much about how they survive against the town muggles who constantly scream for their death. But I was most interested in the way they maintained their youth. By taking others'. The information gave me many theories about how to tackle my problem of attaining immortality. At this point, my experimental concoction produced too many varying results to be of any use…… _

Djemn looked down at the recipe resting on the desk, before returning her eyes to the journal in her hands. Too many varying results? Putting the journal aside, she picked up the recipe and scanned through the recorded data for the potion's experimental stages. After a few moments, her forehead scrunched up in confusion. Perhaps the theory hadn't been discovered yet during the first millennia. However, thanks to modern muggle expertise, Djemn could now see Salazar's problem. By applying simple chemistry, she found the hitch to be the absence of a stabilizer in the concoction, therefore causing the varying results. All Salazar had needed to do was add a stabilizing chemical addition to counter the overwhelming effects of the other three ingredients while maintaining the actual purpose of the potion……

With a jolt, Djemn stared back at the book in her hands, eyes intense, as thoughts ran wildly through her mind. If she could complete this potion……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The Great Hall was packed with students. The four house tables had been removed and one golden stage was placed against a wall. Students gathered around it, nearly bursting with excitement and energy as they waiting for the Duelling Club to commence.

A Duelling Club. Djemn would honestly admit that it was an intriguing idea. A chance to see everyone at their worst and their best. A game she was brought up playing. It would be fun to experience it the wizard's way. And that was how she found herself among the many students of Hogwarts, waiting. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted to come very much, what with the near completion of the theory for 'Phoenix Down' as she'd named the potion. The Christmas holidays couldn't have come at a more appropriate time. It was the perfect opportunity for her to buy the essential ingredients for the actual brewing. But, research and experiment aside, Djemn owed herself a break from it all. The Dueling Club would provide a much appreciated distraction…

"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

…. Or not. Djemn stared incredulously at the man in deep plum robes on the stage. Next to him, Professor Snape stood with a murderous expression on his face.

"—Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Djemn wanted to snort. Instead, she just wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust at the lying, pathetic excuse of a man on the stage. She wondered just how long it would take before someone realized that he was a complete and utter fraud. All the female sycophants after him… did they even read any of his books? The dates and times were too inconsistent. He couldn't have possibly been in Haiti battling a ghoul, then trying to converse with a mountain troll in the Andes Peaks three minutes later. Even children could come up with better lies.

Djemn watched as both professors faced each other and bowed. Then, they raised their wands into offensive positions and got ready to strike. Or at least, Professor Snape did. Professor Lockhart was too busy explaining rather obvious details to his female audience and failed to notice the highly displeased state of his opponent. After a count of three, the two men raised their wands behind the shoulders and cried "Expelliarmus!"

A flash of bright scarlet light later, Professor Lockhart was thrown back into a wall where he slid down to slump ungracefully on the stone floor. Djemn raised an appreciative eyebrow. Perhaps coming here wasn't a complete waste of time after all. Cheers came from a few Slytherin students and Djemn thought she saw her head of house calm down just the tiniest bit. Once he managed to stand again, the DADA professor tottered back onto the platform.

"—if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see……"

And Djemn thought Professor Snape had seemed murderous before. Now, he looked as though he wanted to incinerate the other man on the spot. Said man had noticed the look this time and wisely decided to steer the focus elsewhere. At least his sense of self-preservation was not non-existent.

"Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me……"

Djemn automatically went to the side, finding herself a place by the wall. She had considered participating when she first heard about the club but after seeing who the organizer was, the choice was rather obvious. She didn't need to get involved in children mock-fights. Let the others have their fun. She's quite content staying away from infections of the immature-kind. Djemn watched as Professor Snape sorted through the crowd. The potions master purposefully separated the trio and partnered them with incompatible Slytherin students. How very him. But it was also good practice for all of them. One needed to face all sorts of opponents in practice to prepare for what one might face in the real world. Indirectly, Professor Snape was doing them a favour. She wondered if he realized that fact. Slowly, he came closer and closer to her position until he was standing right in front of her, regarding her with a scrutinizing expression.

"Miss Helesande, you will partner with—"

"I am merely a spectator, professor."

The professor gave her a hard look before abruptly walking away. This suited her just fine. Now, she had all her attention to observe the other students and see if they're worth anything.

"One… Two… Three…"

Djemn wondered if the word pandemonium would appropriately explain the situation in front of her. Every other student was shooting off spells like a malfunctioning machine gun. Those less efficient with wands opted to use physical means instead. Slytherins mostly targeted Gryffindors and vice-versa. Hufflepuffs ran and cowered behind some of the older years while the Ravenclaws disorderly used as many spells as they can, which was a lot.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Professor Snape's canceling spell put an end to the chaos in the Great Hall. By then, a grayish, greenish mist was hanging above the crowd, the result of randomly discharged magic. There were students bleeding, sprawled on the floor, sorting odd limbs in strange places. Djemn didn't know whether to walk straight out of the hall in disgust or bang her head against a wall in frustration. These… _brats_ couldn't even hold one duel properly. She felt the irritation crawl under her skin like tiny ants. None of her cadets, not one, had caused her so much displeasure. Being so incompetent, the Hogwarts students were nothing short of amazing.

"I think I'd better teach you how to_ block_ unfriendly spells. Let's have a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart. Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox."

Professor Snape was already searching the hall even before he finished his sentence. His eyes glided over shuddering students until they stopped on Djemn. Face neutral, she stared back, daring him to pick her. She was in a rather foul mood now and a match would provide good excuse to vent off some of her frustrations. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, her head of house seemed to think that it would be best if she didn't get an excuse to curse somebody. Damn his perceptiveness.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?"

"Excellent idea!"

In just a few seconds, Harry and Malfoy were left standing in the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them more room. Then, the DADA professor attempted – note the word 'attempted' – to teach Harry how to block an offensive spell. Instead, the man just dropped his own wand when he tried to execute a complicated hand movement. Opposite them, Djemn saw Professor Snape say something in Malfoy's ear. Well, this could get interesting.

"Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

"Three – two – one – go!"

"Serpensortia!"

A long black snake shot out from Malfoy's wand and landed heavily on the floor between the two boys. It raised its head, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings around it before moving into an offensive position. The crowd screamed in fear as they moved further away from the snake. Djemn didn't understand what all the fuss was about. It was just a black milk snake. Non-venomous, constrictor type, perfectly harmless. There was more danger of the students impaling themselves with their wands in their haste to skitter away than there was of the snake causing them any real injury. And it was such a beautiful snake too. But pretty scales aside, Djemn's mind was working fast. Did Professor Snape purposefully tell Malfoy to use this spell? What was he trying to prove? Did he know something?

"Don't move, Potter. I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!"

Professor Lockhart pointed his wand at the snake and a loud bang was heard. Djemn watched in slight horror as the poor snake was hurled ten feet into the air before falling down with a 'smack' onto the floor. Furious now, the snake went for the nearest victim: Justin Finch-Fletchley. Djemn could understand its fury. Hell, she would be livid too if someone just transported her from one place to an unfamiliar one then threw her ten feet into the air. Plus, the unfortunate reptile was probably hibernating before this. From what she could remember, this species was only active from mid-spring to early-autumn. It's no surprise that it's angry.

The snake raised itself in front of Finch-Fletchley, fangs exposed as though about to attack; an intimidating act done by all serpents. Then, Djemn watched with one raised eyebrow, in slight bewilderment, as Harry started running towards the snake. But, she was wholly unprepared for what he did next.

"**_Leave him!" _**

The snake immediately slumped to the floor, turning its docile eyes to Harry. The boy looked surprised for a moment before he grinned and looked up at Finch-Fletchley. Djemn's fingernails dug into her palm as she restrained herself from shouting, "IDIOT!". If she was one for verbal cursing, she would have at that point. The boy was a bleeding imbecile! Who in their right mind would speak in parseltongue in front of a crowd? Did he want to be an out-cast? Labeled a dark wizard? BLOODY IDIOT!

"What do you think you're playing at?"

Finch-Fletchley turned and stormed out of the hall. The crowd started muttering amongst themselves and giving Harry suspicious looks. Professor Snape came forward and banished the snake, all the while staring at Harry in a calculating way. Harry, on the other hand, just stood there looking confused until Ronald tugged on his robes and steered him out of the hall, Hermione joining them. As they passed, the crowd parted away from them, as though the trio was contagious with a highly lethal disease.

Djemn watched them leave with a neutral expression. They brought it upon themselves.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The next morning dawned with a blizzard raging outside the castle walls. Djemn had long since stopped her morning laps and practiced indoors in her room, no matter how limited the space was. She just couldn't risk it going outside. This meant that some tuning exercise was in order when she returned home for the holidays.

The first lesson that day was charms with Ravenclaw. Most of the class were still half asleep when tiny Professor Flitwick called the register. Last night, Djemn had taken the time to think about everything that happened yesterday and had come to a decision to go about as though nothing had happened. She wasn't going to reveal her parseltongue abilities nor was she about to act differently around Harry. There was no reason to do either. And she concluded that she had been overly paranoid about Professor Snape; obviously the man had just wanted to make Harry sweat a little. It had nothing to do with her.

Professor Flitwick was just about to show them how to cancel an engorgement charm when the voice of Peeves, Hogwarts' resident poltergeist and trouble-maker, filled the air.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Djemn heard doors crash open at the shout. Voices filled the hallway as students flooded out to see what the screaming was about. Djemn pushed her way to the front of the crowd and saw Harry standing in the middle of the corridor, looking stunned and slightly scared. Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor next to what seemed to be Sir Nicholas. Both were petrified with identical expressions of shock on their faces. Djemn moved her attention back to Harry and narrowed her eyes at him. How is it that he can get into trouble so many times within the span of 24 hours?

Professor McGonagall arrived and ordered everyone to return to their classes. As Djemn moved to leave, she heard a yell of _"Caught in the act!"_ before Professor McGonagall said something sharply in return. Whatever it was, Djemn had bigger things on her mind.

That night, she lay on her bed, thinking of a way to solve her new dilemma. Well, it wasn't really a new dilemma, just one she didn't think she would need to deal with. Until now. The Heir of Slytherin was moving again and it was becoming too risky for Djemn to continue commuting to and fro from the chamber. They might just meet on an unlucky day. While Jormungand was friendly to her and had promised to not reveal her secrets to the Heir, he was still under the Heir's command. Proof was today's attack. Djmen knew that if given the order to eliminate, Jormungand would have to obey and kill her. It was not something she wanted to experience anytime soon. She would have to do something about the Heir, but it will have to wait until after the Christmas holidays.

**Author's Notes:** The ending's a bit abrupt but I'm running out of words! This chap is twice as long as a normal one to make up for a missing update. I need reviews! Opinions! Anything to keep me going! And on a sadder note, this will be my last update before my finals, meaning Lore or mess will be MIA until the first week of December. I mean it this time. Finals are important. So, bear with me, 'kay? Big thanks to Alice and taugeh!

Sanderson sisters – the witches from Hocus Pocus, one of the few Disney films which did not make me want to puke. I changed their time for the story. The Eotonweard Book is mine though.

Eotonweard – 'Watch Against Monsters' (Anglo-Saxon).

Phoenix Down – Anyone who plays the Final Fantasy game series would know. For those who don't, … well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Until then, have a nice day everyone!


	15. 15: Home and the Things that Come

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 15 – Home and the Things that Come with it. **

Dark.

The blackness swallowed her body. It was hard to move. It was hard to breath. Tiny strings pulled at her limbs, hampering her movements. She tried to pull them off, cut them off, tear them off. It didn't work. They pulled. She resisted. Forward, she had to move forward.

Light.

There was a box. Red. Green. It stood out in the darkness. Beckoning, calling. She felt herself reaching for it. So near now. Her unseen hand closed around the ribbons holding it shut. The tiny strings tried to coax her away. She pulled. The box fell open. Light blinded her.

"We're nearly there, Miss Djemn."

Djemn opened her eyes and stared unseeingly in front of her for a moment. A home-coming dream. She took a deep breath and cleared the remnants of the dream from her mind. With all the things happening at Hogwarts, her mentality had become a jumble of thoughts. It's no wonder strange dreams plagued her even when she was so near to home. She needed to practice again. These three and a half months had been the longest she went without and the effects were already starting to show. Djemn gave a small sigh and looked out the window of her car as Hadrian drove them closer and closer to the manor.

Helesande Manor looked very much like a Christmas toy house from afar. White snow covered its roofs and grounds, contrasting with the manor's red walls. Thick, fluffy piles of snow weighed down the trees, painting them in shades of white and silver. The glass was slightly frosted over, but light still came from the many windows, casting little shadows on the ground when a plant blocked its path. The entire landscape look like something one might see in a child's Christmas picture book.

"Welcome home, Miss Djemn."

Djemn was greeted by Niles the moment she stepped out her black Maybach. The old butler smiled fondly at her as he moved to take her trunk from the car. He looked ever the same with his hoary blond hair and customary black suit. It was amazing how old age never seemed to catch him. Djmen smiled back at him as he held the manor doors open for her. Once inside, she was almost immediately accosted by her mother.

"Djemn, you're home! How was the journey? Are you tired? Do you need anything?"

Cezelia Helesande was nothing if not a worry-wart. Her smooth, tan cheeks were tinged pink as she rushed to embrace her daughter and remove her winter coat. Djemn let her mother fuss over her. To object was futile as proven so many times in the past. Ever since Djemn's birth, it was simply in Cezelia's nature to fret about her daughter. But somehow, Djemn had her suspicions that her mother was _very_ different before she married into the Helesande family. It was just a gut feeling.

"Mother, it is good to see you. I am fine. I slept a little during the journey from London."

"That is good to know. I've missed you dearly. Come, your father is waiting."

Djemn's eyebrows went up in rare surprise. Her father was waiting? For her? That's not right. Her father never came home so early and he certainly will not do it just to wait for someone. It's not like the military's so generous that they would give him leave so that he may be home with his family for Christmas. They never did it before, so why do it now? Or perhaps there was another reason? For a split second, Djemn's mind returned to the played-out scene in the headmaster's office. Could it be?

Cezelia must have seen the slight confusion on her face as she smiled reassuringly then took one of her small hands in hers. She began to lead Djemn towards the family living room in small, precise steps. Djemn had a good idea what her mother thought about her father's odd actions. Cezelia probably thought that Jean-Roy missed their daughter as much as she did and had wanted to be there when Djemn arrived home. Djemn doubted it. It was more likely that he was still sore about the slap. Heartless general or not, he was still her father and that hit, even though fake, was aimed to hurt. What little left of his conscience probably pushed him to personally make sure that she was fine.

They reached the living room and sure enough, Jean-Roy Helesande was sitting in an armchair, reading the day's newspapers. Djemn stood in the doorway a moment, just taking in her father's figure.

"Husband."

Jean-Roy looked up at the voice of his wife. His eyes found her face before they moved to rest on Djemn's. The cold black eyes searched his daughter's form once before he spoke.

"You have returned."

"Yes, father. I am home. It is good to see you."

Jean-Roy gave her the barest of smiles and Djemn felt herself smile back. To anyone else, it would seem like a distant, even cold, greeting from a parent but her family had always been weird that way. She knew that both her parents cared, and that was enough. How much they cared and how much they wished to show it was not hers to decide.

"Come. Dinner is about to be served."

Cezelia's announcement brought all three of them to the dining hall where a scrumptious meal, courtesy of Djemn's mother, was served. They ate in casual silence as was the norm during meals. After dinner, Cezelia dragged Djemn off for a little mother-daughter time while Jean-Roy excused himself to his study. As Djemn walked the carpeted path to her mother's rooms, she couldn't help but feel the familiarity of her family's actions; her mother demanding a talk in the evening, her father retreating to his documents and strategies. Nothing had changed. Indeed, even the interiors of the manor were exactly the same. It was as if Djemn had not left at all.

"Djemn? What is the matter? Are you perhaps tired? Do you wish to retire for the day?"

"It is nothing, mother. I am fine."

I am home.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn sat back to gauge her parents' reactions. Her father had a blank look on his face but the gleam in his eyes told another story. She would bet that hundreds of thoughts were racing through his mind at the speed of a bullet train. Her mother, on the other hand, had a horrified expression etched on her face.

"I have yet to discover the Heir's identity. However, it is definite that the Heir is male."

Jean-Roy looked at his daughter for a moment. It was the afternoon of the day after Djemn's return and she had asked for their ears concerning some matters. Whatever it was, they never expected to hear about secret chambers, primordial evil wizards, and crazy ancestor-worshipping children. Djemn had explained why she'd disappeared for five days in November and they had both been relieved to hear that it was just a case of the usual attack. After a short intermission where Cezelia had demanded that Djemn get a full medical diagnosis as soon as possible, Jeff, the snake keeper Jean-Roy had hired, had walked into the room, carrying Uraeus. The snake had been delighted to see Djemn and both parents had been mildly confused when their daughter started to hiss back at the snake once Jeff had left. Ten minutes and some hissings later, both adults were left stunned and thoroughly shocked. Jean-Roy had stared at his daughter with (nearly) wide eyes and Cezelia had looked about to faint. Once the shock had worn off, Jean-Roy had adopted a barely noticeable gleeful smile. No doubt a nasty plan involving Dejmn's reptilian friends was already hatching in his mind. Steering their attention away from her parseltongue abilities, their discussion continued on the subject of the Heir.

"The last attack was a week before the holiday departure. A ghost and a Gryffindor boy were petrified in the hallways."

At this, all three sobered quickly. Jean-Roy sat thinking a moment before he stood with a determined air.

"We will discuss further in my study."

Then, he turned and left the sitting room. It was a clear indication that he wanted to speak with Djemn alone. Djemn looked towards her mother. Cezelia was worrying her lower lip, as though she wanted to say something but didn't know what to say or whether she should say it. Perhaps telling her mother that there was an enormous snake wandering around her school, debilitating students wasn't the best thing to do, but Djemn didn't see a reason why she _shouldn't_ tell her parents about something that might endanger her in some way. She was their daughter and as so, she had certain responsibilities to them. Trusting them and keeping herself safe were only a few on that list. She had hidden her parseltongue abilities before because she herself hadn't been able to come up with a plausible explanation. Now, with the proof of magic in plain view, it was only fair that she told them about it.

Djemn gave her mother a reassuring smile, received one in return, then left to meet her father. Upon entering the study, she saw her father standing by the main window of the room. It was a single, wide pane of glass, stretching from ceiling to floor. Outside, she could see most of the Helesande estate, broad and covered in pristine white snow. Directly behind the manor was the pond, or lake if one prefers, where her father reared his precious fish. The water was not frozen over like everything else. In fact, Djemn was sure that if she reached her hand in, the water would be a normal temperature, not too hot or too cold. Her father had built in an automatic heating system to keep the water at such a temperature, lest the water freezes over and kills his beloved fish. Next to his reptiles, his fish were his most treasured pets.

"How will you see to this Heir?"

Djemn turned her eyes to her father. He was still looking outside impassively.

"As of now, I have yet to formulate a solid course of action. However,……"

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Cold. It was so cold. Jerking awake, she didn't know if she had lost consciousness with her eyes open as she clearly did not remember opening them when she woke. Her body was resting face down on the cold rugged floor. There was an odd sort of unfeeling. As though she was numb all over. She tried to move her fingers only to regret it when pain shot through her entire upper body. She gritted her teeth, willing it to stop. Only then did she realize that she was completely undressed. And she was covered in a sort of sticky liquid. Blood. Hers. But it must have been there for so long that her nose no longer registered the sharp, metallic smell.

A rough, strong hand gripped her left wrist, hauling her up. Her body protested. Wounds reopened and nearly every fiber of her being screamed in pain. Her legs refused to work as the man, yes, a man, started dragging her across the jagged stone floor, pulling her along like a rag doll. They entered a dark corridor, but she barely noticed her surroundings, only reacting when the man brutally flung her into a metal cell. Her head slammed into the hard opposite wall and she was unconscious even before the metal grill swung shut in its place.

The frozen water felt like giants slaps to her face. Her shoulders ached even as she moved a few inches to shake off the freezing liquid. It was night now. How many hours had passed? How many days had she been in that cell? Her jailor gripped her arm, hauling her once again to her feet. They gave out from beneath her, causing her to rely on the not so gentle grip on her arm to keep up right. They had cut her ankle tendons. Barely able to move at all, the man pulled her along the dark corridor to a small room with a metal chair in it. He threw her into the chair and shackled her wrists to the armrests, rendering any movement impossible. She doubted that she would try to escape even if she could. Breathing was difficult. From what she could sense, at least three of her rib bones, her right wrist, and her right femur were broken. She faintly remembered being whipped, cut and branded with hot metal bars. Some of her fingers and toes were missing.

"Ready to talk now?"

The man's tone was amicable, not at all sounding like he was about to continue to torture her for information. Information she wasn't sure she remembered anymore. It felt so long ago since she'd been here. And, she knew that even if she did remembered, she would not have told them. She was not that kind of soldier.

"No?"

With no warning but a glint of silver, a knife plunged into her left shoulder, right where her glenohumeral joint was. A scream ripped from her throat, hoarse after much use in the previous torture sessions. The pain from the stab caused her body to shudder and shake involuntarily.

"What are you hiding from us? Tell me now and this can all go away."

She gritted her teeth, trying to fight the pain away, trying to not inhale too deeply in fear of moving her broken ribs. She had lost all feeling in her left arm. The knife must have cut off all her major nerves. The knife suddenly twisted a ninety degree, tearing the wound even wider. A pained cry was drowned in her throat. It hurt so much…

"Is it all worth it? All this pain? For what? For whom? No one's going to come for you. You're going to die here and no one's going to know about how you heroically held onto your loyalty. Just say it. Tell us what you've been hiding and I promise you, no more pain shall come."

She concentrated on the sounds of her breathing. She tuned out his voice, hearing nothing but her own dying heart beat. The blood from her shoulder had created a small pool of crimson on the floor. Now would be a good time to die from blood loss. It would save her all the trouble of having to suffer another session before finally succumbing to the hands of death. She had no illusions that she would live after this. There was no possibility of the enemy keeping one of them alive once they were through with them. She faintly wondered what had happened to the rest of her squadron since their capture. Were they being interrogated, like her? Or were they dead? A clean bullet to the head would be a blessing in disguise for them. At least they didn't have to endure this.

"Talk. You have brought me to the end of my patience."

Wow, what an accomplishment. A professional interrogator/torturer telling his victim that he has lost his patience with them. If only she could get her facial muscles to move, she would have smirked at him in smugness. At this point, she couldn't even raise her head to look at him in the face. Suddenly, a hand gripped her chin and pushed her head until she was looking straight up at the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The light wasn't all that bright but to her, having been locked up in dark places for some time already, it was blinding.

"Have a good look."

Then…

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from her, echoing off the walls. Both her arms pulled at the shackles, trying to get to her face and hold it in agony. Blood poured down the left side of her face. The man jeeringly pulled away the knife from her left eye, flicking off the mess on it. She trashed around for a moment, attempting to throw away the pain. It was too intense. More so than when they forced a scorching poker in between her legs.

"You don't have to go through all this. Just tell us your plans. You can end it all now."

Her body shook with the intensity of the pain. She forced herself to calm down then licked her lips as though about to speak. The man leaned closer.

"Fuck. You."

"…… I see."

A hand came to seize her hair roughly and pull her head back as far as it will go. With her remaining eye, she looked up at the single light bulb, hanging so still in the small room. She did not appreciate it before, not knowing that she was about to lose half of her sight. Now, she took in all its beauty, even if it's not much. She admired its brightness and tried not to think that she'll never again see light, or anything at all, after this moment. As if to taunt her for the last time, her tormenter deliberately let his blade rest teasingly on her neck for a second or two. And as she felt the metal slide across her tender flesh, she let her eye close of its own accord.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

With two shaking hands, Djemn ripped the console off her head and dropped it onto her lap. She struggled to control her erratic breathing as the images and the artificial pain from the simulation stayed vivid in her mind. Her right hand shakily came up to grip her left shoulder, feeling it and convincing herself that there was no wound there and that she was perfectly fine. She tried to tell herself that it was just a simulation. An illusion. But it always seemed so real each time. No matter what she knew or remembered, the system would always push it all away, leaving her only aware of what was happening or what she was supposed to know during the simulation. So, to her, each trial was reality until the simulation ended. And after each one, she would have to force her mind to remember and accept the real reality or face certain insanity. Sometimes, and nearly every time after an extreme session, she would often think that she was not all that sane. People who could not differ between the real world and the one the Artificial Intelligence created were doomed to never wake from their trance. There had been a few close incidents in the past but she had always pulled through. This time would be no different.

It had been three years since she'd started to use the system. Her father had installed it into the Tech Room with intentions to use it himself. Or so he had told his wife. Two months after the installation, Jean-Roy had encouraged Djemn to use it. The system was initially made to train field soldiers to enhance their performance when thrown into dire situations. In Djemn's case, her father wanted to be sure that she would be able to handle even the worst of situations, should the worst ever happen and she be alone to face it. It would toughen her up for the worst of wars, torture sessions and even when faced with unavoidable death. The system played with her mind, twisting her ideal reality into one of horror and pain. There were, of course, happier and less traumatizing simulations but they serve only to give false security. Djemn had always used the system to push herself close to the edge but she never forgot where her limits were.

Two knocks came from the door and Djemn whipped her head around to stare at it, emotions and impulses still high strung.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Hadrian walked along the second floor corridor, in thought. His young mistress had returned home after nearly four long months. It was only after seeing her again at the train station that he felt his purpose return to him. Since her departure in September, he had been left with nothing to attend to, Djemn being his main reason to even be in Helesande Manor. She was his responsibility, his foremost priority should anything happen.

When he was first assigned to her, eight years ago, she was naught but a small, four year old toddler, albeit a very clever and unusual toddler. She had tried to understand him the best she could, even from the first day itself. She was generally a cheerful girl, smiling whenever she saw something interesting, which had been very often as she was after all, a four year old. Initially, Hadrian had been apprehensive about having to care after a bouncing, hyper, never-about-to-shut-up kiddie. But he had been relieved when Djemn proved to be very well behaved and could always tell when she was not suppose to speak or do anything. Their time together had been enjoyable, with Hadrian mostly just watching her when she wasn't with her mother or teachers. Whatever discontentment he had felt when told that he would become the bodyguard of General Helesande's four year old daughter had been dispelled after a few months with said toddler. Djemn was just interesting in the way that she wasn't anything like most children. However, in the early winter of that year, Hadrian had found out just how different she really was.

It was late November. The snow had come early that year and the manor had been covered in it. Djemn had been shut inside for nearly two months. She never once complained about her incarceration, only making the best of her time inside, reading, studying or practicing martial arts. Hadrian had thought it odd but had not voiced his confusion about a child who never seemed to want to go outside. On one afternoon, a seemingly bored Djemn wandered around the manor, Hadrian dutifully following her. When they reached the end of a corridor, she had stopped to look outside a window. The snow was drifting down lazily, some coming close to the glass panes. At that time, the manor windows were still operational, able to be opened and closed at will. Djemn had stood there a long time, just looking at the snow flakes falling from the sky. Then, she had climbed onto the window seat, reached for the latch and, before Hadrian could tell her that it wasn't a wise course of action, opened the large window. The toddler had reached her hands out, catching little frozen raindrops in her tiny palms. Hadrian would never forget the way her face lit up at the sensation of melting snow. He had been quite certain then that the child had never experienced a snow ball fight or even simple snow for that matter. Before he could say anything though, Djemn's eyes had rolled back in her head and she slumped unconscious on the window seat.

The whole manor went into frenzy. The mistress was distraught and would not leave the side of her daughter. At least two doctors came to the manor and did the longest examinations on the toddler. Hadrian didn't know the results of the examinations but whatever they were, they did not serve to calm the mistress. The master, on the other hand, had seemed… tired when he heard the news. As though the situation was not foreign to him and that he was already very weary of it. Hadrian had merely waited as Djmen slept for three days and three nights, not once waking or showing signs of life besides the steady movement of her chest. On the evening of the fourth day, she finally woke. The doctors had returned to do diagnoses but none could explain the strange slip of consciousness.

It was then that Hadrian finally knew the true reason for his employment. Djemn was ill. It was not something as simple as the flu or a virus which could be easily cured with vaccines and antibodies. It was something no one could explain, something that just might kill her. But they didn't know anything about it. They had researched for years but could find nothing. She would faint and go into comas at random intervals. No matter what they tried to wake her, it would never work. Waiting was the only choice when it happened. What they did know though, was the cold being the main trigger for these sudden losses of consciousness. Ever since that knowledge, Djemn had been stripped of her right to leave the manor during the cold seasons. At least then, Hadrian had understood. He was hired to ensure that should anything happen to her, there was someone there to watch and catch her. He was her safety net.

Djemn had gone a long way since then. She had changed so much that sometimes, Hadrian found it hard to think of his young mistress as the same four year old he had come to adore so many years ago. The changes were all largely due to 'the incident' when she was six but had it not happened, it would have been only harder for her as she grew up. At least now, she would be hurt only if she allowed herself to be.

Hadrian stopped in front of a set of double oak doors and knocked twice. He waited but heard no response. Frowning, he pushed open the doors and entered the darkened room. This was the Tech Room and as the name suggested, was a room made for housing technology and related devices. Hadrian glanced about and saw Djemn sitting in front of the simulation generator. He walked over to her, trying to keep the frown from his face. He had never liked that machine. It always made his young mistress a little too unstable for his liking. He knew it was supposed to enhance her endurance and reaction time but there was also the underlying threat of it driving her insane instead. He still remembered the time he had rushed into the room when he heard a scream and found her sobbing and shaking in the chair. Once she had caught sight of him, she had grabbed onto his jacket and refused to let go, crying into his shoulder for a good ten minutes before she was calm enough to tell him some of the things she saw in the simulation. It was the worst breakdown Hadrian had seen since 'the incident'. She was nine then, and it was merely her third time on the system. Her father had barred her from it for some time after that but she eventually convinced him to let her use it again. No more breakdowns had occurred since then, but there were times when Hadrian had caught her staring into space, especially when speaking of certain subjects.

Right now, Djemn was staring at him with slightly wide eyes, as thought not registering his face. She blinked a few times then gave him a small smile. Hadrian held back the relieved sigh threatening to escape and schooled his face back to a bland expression.

"Was there something you wanted, Hadrian?"

"The mistress has asked for your company for tea."

Djemn nodded once and moved to place the head console back in its place. Her gaze glazed over as fingers unconsciously caressed the cable attached to it before she visibly shook herself and stood up to leave.

Hadrian followed her out of the Tech Room and back to the master's and mistress's quarters. He regarded her a moment from the back, noting her usual confident and regal posture as she walked. He wasn't sorry at all about the way things have turned out in his and her life, or else he never would have met her or she never would have been who she was now. But sometimes… sometimes he wondered if things would have been very different if Djemn had not been raised the daughter of a general, had not been taught to understand the blunt truth about life and death when she was six, had not been trained to become a future commander of armed forces. Yes, he thought, things would have been very different. But no matter what kind of upbringing Djemn received, Hadrian was certain that she would not have disappointed either way.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn tugged lightly at the straps holding her in place as the Cobra did another circle before landing smoothly on the readied platform. She could see just the barest hint of light forming at the edge of the horizon, beyond the walls of the military headquarters. To her left, her father seemed oddly calm but at the same time excited about something. Djemn couldn't, in all her years of training to read other people, figure out what had had him so… enthusiastic. The only other times she had seen him like this, there had been a new addition to Egypt or a new model of weaponry arriving at his headquarters. Which made her all the more curious as to what her father had wanted to show her at such an early hour in the morning.

Djemn had barely been awake for two minutes when her father had knocked soundly on her doors and told her that he wanted her appropriately dressed and ready to accompany him to work. Bewildered as she was, she did as she was told and soon found herself being boarded onto a helicopter and flown to the place where her father worked. While the journey itself wasn't something unusual to her, traveling in a chopper surrounded by darkness, the destination was. She'd never been to her father's headquarters and it just seemed odd that her father would, out of the blue, ask her to come with him. Undoubtedly, he had something he wanted her to see. But looking at it from a different perspective, she supposed she shouldn't have been all that surprised. Black-ranked cadets were obliged to know their way around military establishments, usually being given a tour by a higher ranking officer. Even if she had stopped attending St.Bastian, she should have realized that her training would continue regardless, holiday break or not. Her father would want her to experience her prospective work stations. And if his invitation had been sudden… well, it was not a foreign concept to her.

Djemn followed her father out of the helicopter and through a door which led them down to the main parts of the facility. Along the way, they encountered soldiers who halted and saluted proudly at Jean-Roy as he passed. They gave just the faintest look of puzzlement at Djemn before they recognized her black uniform. It was not all that hard to make the connection between her father, St.Bastian and her. For a moment, she wondered if there were people here who knew of her. She wouldn't put it past her schoolmates to spread the news about her 'advantages' of being the school founder's daughter. To put it simply, there were still people who think she cheated during the rank assessments. Either that or the examiners favoured her because of who she was. She hadn't bothered about the accusations as they weren't worth her time but now, she wondered if it would cause her some inconvenience. True, people who believe rumors and gossip without verifying their authenticity were people not worth bothering about, but it just so happens that these are the majority of the people living in this phony world. It would make it harder for her to gain recognition if her future subordinates and associates already possess a negative mindset on her.

Her father led her past many corridors and doorways. They passed by different sections of the military and Djemn was impressed to see that there were already soldiers up and working diligently at their stations. It was barely past five-thirty in the morning. Of course, if they were under her father's jurisdiction, she wouldn't be surprised even if they were awake by four. Jean-Roy was beyond strict with his rules and was utterly clear with his expectations. He wouldn't tolerate tardiness or indolence even with her. And she had been nine when he first enforced those rules at home. It made her wonder what he did to his soldiers who showed signs of disobedience. She decided that she'd rather not go there with her thoughts.

After entering what seemed to be the third building interconnected by hallways, Djemn noted that they had walked a perfect semi-circle. She idly wondered if her father had done it on purpose to let her have a glimpse of the place he worked at. She had discarded the idea of him giving her a tour as he was walking all too decisively and looked to have something else on his mind. Then, when they walked past a stretch of glass panes serving as walls to allow observation of the grounds, she immediately remembered the weather and chided herself. Her father was being thoughtful of her! The only reason he was using a longer route was so that she wouldn't have to face the cold. It was, without a doubt, easier and quicker to just walk past the grounds from the first building to the one they were currently in, but that would have meant them having to be outside, in the December weather. Her father had understood the risks he was taking by bringing her along with him when winter was already on them, but he had done it nonetheless and he was doing his best to keep her inside, away from the bitter frigidness so harmful to her. And she felt it then, his warmth. Let it never be said that her father was heartless. She was almost compelled to reassure him that she had taken a warming potion prior to their journey, but it was neither place nor time for her to say it so she simply followed him quietly.

What was it that he wanted to show her so desperately that he would resort to bringing her out of the manor in winter?

Finally, they came to a section where there were fewer soldiers and more people dressed in white lab coats. More often than not, Djemn saw them carrying files and/or documents that looked to be for authorized eyes only. Her father stopped by a desk and said something to the assistant behind it before gesturing for Djemn to follow. They entered an elevator that opened only after a code was keyed into the wall beside it. Once the elevator started moving, she realized with a start that they were going downwards, not upwards. She felt her adrenaline spike slightly. There was a reason for everything and there was a _reason_ why some things were labeled 'underground'. She had long since guessed that this was where the military had its experimentations done. While she didn't necessarily know the nature of these experiments, she knew that they were unlikely to be approved by the common public. Biological warfare agents, anyone?

The elevator halted and Djemn stepped out into what seemed to be a long horizontal corridor with doors at regular intervals. There were no windows or observation glass panels, only plain white concrete and plain white doors. Each door looked to be locked, made of thick steel and had a num-pad next to it. Obviously, if you had no business knowing what was happening behind those doors, then you'll_ never_ know what was happening behind those doors. Which made Djemn even more eager to know what her father had intended for her.

Her father brought her to the last door at the left end of the corridor and keyed in the necessary pass code. There was a soft chunking sound as the door automatically unlocked itself. Once they were inside, her father quickly shut the door behind them where it locked itself again. Djemn took a moment or two to examine the room they were in. On the right side, there was an examination table and a hard-looking chair with leather constraints on it. Scattered about them were machines and metal trays bearing surgically-inclined tools. Lining the wall were glass cabinets filled with chemicals and materials. On the left, there were desks, filing cabinets and computers. At the moment, the monitors were all displaying various readings and data on different aspects of 'the subject'. Papers were stacked and strewn across the desks. But no one was there.

Djemn did not have time to ponder about the absence of the room's occupants as her father led her directly to the door located on the opposite wall. The moment he opened it, her nose was assaulted with the foul smell of wet fur and rotting flesh. Where the room behind her smelt lightly of antiseptics, the room in front of her smelt like a carcass incinerator. She schooled her features to a mere frown and stepped inside. Loud snarls and growls met her ears. At the centre of this room, a single cage was hosting a large animal. Djemn let her eyes take in the view of the beast, thrashing and lunging violently at its steel cell. She could barely make it out to be a wolf of some sort. But it was too large to be a normal wolf. Its fangs looked a tad too long, its claws a size too big and its eyes a glimmer too mad. The instinctive killing aura coming from the creature was too wild and potent to have come from simple provocation. There was something unnatural, wrong about animal.

"5.59"

Djemn turned her head and saw two men wearing lab coats standing at a corner, peering at the beast expectantly. Their eyes flicked from it to their clipboards in quick succession, furiously taking notes of every movement. They have yet to show that they have acknowledged new presence among them. Either they haven't noticed due to their intense concentration, or they just didn't care. It didn't really matter, thought Djemn, as she turned her eyes back to the not-wolf. It seemed to have slowed in its attacks and looked a good deal weaker than before.

"Six o'clock."

The beast gave a violent shudder and started to tear at itself. Djemn watched in morbid fascination as its fur began shedding, falling off in clumps to the cell floor. It clawed at its furless pelt, which ripped and pealed away to reveal what looked like raw human skin. Bones shifted and restructured themselves with sickening crunches and cracks. It gained an entire different form as its hind legs lengthened and its skull morphed into a roundish shape. In almost no time at all, the creature was no more. In its place stood a naked, weak-looking man with a sickly pale complexion. His face was one of fright and horror, eyes shifting from one person to another. He hunched into himself and shied away from the people in the room, moving as far away from them as he could without letting them out of his sight.

Djemn took in a slow breath when she realized she had stopped breathing. But, she couldn't stop the single word from escaping her lips in a soft whisper.

"_Werewolf_."

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I'm back! Finally updating again. I hope it hasn't been too long for you guys. This chap's just moderately long as I didn't want to drag it too much. Like the ending? (evil crackle) Actually, I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. So please review and tell me what you think. I _need_ it. Opinions, criticism, anything! The next chap will be up in a few days if Lore or mess is not too lazy. Very BIG 'thank you's to those who reviewed. However, someone brought up a few questions and I feel that I should address them before more readers are confused.

In the HM universe, I consider all powerful wizards and witches to be capable of wandless magic. It just depends on how well they could do it. Even Harry, when angry, could blow up a few glasses. I see no reason why others can't do it. And perhaps it was my mistake by making it sound as though Professor Snape could not penetrate Djemn's mind. He could. He just wasn't trying seriously at the time since he wasn't supposed to be doing it in the first place. What if he really attacked her mind and Djemn found out? He couldn't have that. And Djemn mostly only finished first year material. Which I would consider pretty easy as it is after all, first year. The other bits of nifty magic were just discovered for convenience. She's spell-smart, meaning she knows exactly which spells to use for the full and best effect. It makes it seem as if she's all powerful but she's really just efficient. So she speaks parseltongue. This is a magical world. Think outside the box. Nope, she's not related to Voldemort. Truly, fully, wholly muggle-born. I would consider it a bit too early to say that she had a spoilt childhood. Pleasant? Perhaps, but not in the normal way that we know. Her motivation, finesse and overall oddness are part of the suspense I'm trying to build up so you'll have to wait to know the whole story. HM is basically told between the lines. One might have to stop, sit back and think a bit to get some of the finer details. Hopefully, this chap will help. And one last thing: Djemn will never be as strong as Voldemort. That's just plain impossible.

I know such a simulation system, as mentioned in the chapter, doesn't exist but let's just pretend it does. Extra knowledge: The creation and storage of bio-weapons have been banned since 1972 but they never said anything about using it. Hmm… And I'm not sure if the full moon is during the middle of the month or not. It is where I live but then again it might be different in England. See you all in a few days. Until then, have a nice day everyone.


	16. 16: Two Births and a Death

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 16 – Two Births and a Death. **

"Late last month, I met with a former subordinate of mine, now a lieutenant general in Kazakhstan. He had wanted to discuss with me the advantages and disadvantages of the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty."

Her father glanced at her to see if she was listening. Djemn nodded to show that she was. It was hard trying to turn her mind away from what she just saw but she knew that whatever her father was saying must had something to do with it. She tried not to peer too intensely at the now-man who was still huddling at a corner of the steel cage.

Djemn had of course heard of the treaty. Proposed by the U.S., it was aimed to reduce the usage of warheads and nuclear weapons by the Soviet Union. It was later joined by Belarus, Ukraine and Kazakhstan. The treaty was signed last year and the latter three countries had since destroyed their nuclear weapons. She supposed it might feel like a large disadvantage to some, getting rid of such powerful tools. But she can't see the connection of that to what she'd just seen.

"Before my departure, he told me a rather interesting account. It seemed that there had been complaints coming from the Ust Urt Plateau nomads that there was a beast devouring their live stock. It happened once every month and always at night. In an unexplained twist of fate, these complaints managed to reach the ears of a group of scientists working for the Kazakhstan government. They managed to catch, what they regarded then, a large wolf. It was severely violent and unnaturally powerful. Needless to confirm, they took it back for observation."

Djemn watched as a very satisfied smile formed on her father's face.

"The morning after, they found a man, naked and locked in the exact cell where they'd placed the wolf. There were no signs of the creature ever having escaped. Unable to conclude a reasonable explanation, the scientists detained the man and every full moon, saw the same thing you have just witnessed."

Her father turned to fully face her and Djemn saw a gleam in his eyes. He was directing a question to her. No, a statement.

'_You know what he is._'

"A werewolf." said Djemn.

"The stuff of myths and legends, I tell you. I wouldn't believe it if it didn't just happened before my eyes, again."

Djemn turned to look at the speaker. It was one of the two men in the room with them. The brunette with blue eyes. He wasn't looking at them when he spoke but walking around the cage, examining the man inside like an insect under a microscope. His partner was still stationary at the corner. Her father ignored the interruption and continued.

"As you know, the treaty required the Kazakhstan government to destroy all nuclear weapons in possession. The result being an imbalance of finance in the Kazakhstan military, which had been the primary concern in my meeting. My associate explained that their government would not provide the research expenses needed to study the subject. However, it was all too great a chance to squander. Hence, he made me an offer. I obtained a nihil obstat and transferred the subject here."

Djemn turned her attention back to the man in the cage. He was regarding the brunette scientist warily, moving away whenever his jailor neared him. He was no longer shaking from the painful transformation and seemed more tired than anything else. She supposed that the experience was routine to him by now. He didn't even bother about his clumps of newly discarded fur, scattered about his feet. Once he felt her eyes on him, he turned and gave Djemn a hard stare. His gaze on her was slightly different, as though he thought her dissimilar to the other occupants of the room. She couldn't tell if he was more afraid of her or the other was around. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the brunette scientist frown at his writings then give a defeated sigh.

"There's no change, sir. We can refer to the computers but I doubt there'll be anything there that we don't already know."

"Comparison with the reports from Kazakhstan?"

"Same results, sir."

Djmen was keeping one ear on the conversation happening beside her while she tried to sort out her thoughts. Even with the knowledge of magic, it was still a shock to discover and actually _see_ a werewolf transformation. She had yet to read on this species of magical creatures and thus knew very little of them at the moment. While she had studied some amount of mythology prior to discovery of Hogwarts, it was not a subject one would pay much heed to. But this… _this_ was simply amazing. Miraculous. No, it was biologically impossible. What she'd just seen completely disregards the logic of human-kind accumulated in over more than two millennia. Of course, the same could be said about magic but the impact of this incident on her mind was just that much stronger.

The man began to inch, ever so slowly, towards her. On closer inspection, she saw that he was barely out of his teenage years. His eyes were cemented solely on her, not moving to address anything else, even when the brunette startled and started to ogle at him again. Djemn didn't know if there was something about herself which appealed to him. Did werewolves generally liked women better? Or did it have something to do with her being magical and thus, in a way, kindred to him?

Cautiously, she took a slow step forward. She knew that her father was watching her like a hawk from behind and that she had to be careful. One wrong move from either one of them and she was likely to be pulled from the room. From what she could understand, her father knew very little about the man as well. Djmen knew the limits of the risks her father was willing for her to undertake and being bitten or scratched by an unknown being who transforms into a wolf every full moon was _way_ beyond the limits.

The man— no, _boy_, inched even closer to her. His fear seemed to have lessened somewhat. But then his eyes flicked towards the medals and pins hanging on the front of her uniform and he lunged back away from her.

"Ah. Silver. He doesn't like silver." said the brunette with an oddly contented voice.

The boy was looking at Djemn with a faintly uncomfortable expression now. She tilted her head slightly at him. The gesture seemed to be well received but he made no more moves to approach her. A hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"I had thought that this would interest you."

Yes, it interested her immensely. Once she returned to Hogwarts, she would find out all she could about werewolves. Surely Salazar's chamber would not disappoint her. In the mean time, general information from various magical books would have to suffice. Her father had given her the best gift she could ask for. Experience and motivation. She glanced at him from over her shoulder. He had a mildly pleased look on his face.

"Merry Christmas."

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

She can't complain. Not really. And she wouldn't complain. Not when the gifts are so good.

Djemn had learned from a young age, through her studies and teachers, that Christmas was a celebration celebrated by most English families. During this celebration, they would spend the day together, eating, drinking and exchanging presents. Most of the families will acquire a pine or fir tree and place it in the living room, decorating it with all kinds of ornaments as per tradition. Most families would also encourage the belief of Santa Claus or Father Christmas, a plus-sized man in red who would travel the world, delivering long desired presents to children who had behaved well. The keyword in all the explanations above being _most_.

As far as she knew, her family had never celebrated Christmas. Her father had never once been available to do it. And she doubted he would even if he could. Jean-Roy wasn't one for festivities and he was a painfully devoted workaholic, not the type to feel holiday spirit. Her mother, on the other hand, simply couldn't phantom the act of putting blinking lights onto a tree ("I fail to see the point in doing so."), never mind if it's a plastic tree or not. Then, there was Djemn. Neither of her parents had ever promoted the ridiculous notion of Father Christmas to her. Presents came from money, money came from people who earned it, in this case, her parents. Santa Claus had _no part_ in the equation. She understood that Christmas had a deeper meaning than just a date for merry-making, but she also knew that her parents, and her, had never been very pious from the start. In fact, she had reason to believe that when it came to beliefs and religions, things were not as simple as they seem, not in her family. Nothing ever is.

And it wasn't only Christmas. Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween… The only date her family ever celebrated was New Year's. Any other festival was regarded as meaningless and inane, pointless means to waste time and money. So, needless to say, Djemn very rarely received presents from her parents. But she wouldn't complain, because when she did receive a present, it would be a damn good one. Such as the set of poison coated, intricately designed daggers her father gave her after his trip to China two years ago. Plus, she was perfectly happy with the arrangement. There was no need for her parents to lavish her with useless objects she wouldn't want anyway. It prevented her from becoming one of those spoilt brats she so frequently encountered in school.

Now, as she walked away with her father from the research room, she was glad for it. Her first Christmas present from him: a meeting with a werewolf. She couldn't have asked for better. Of course, he had reminded her that the boy was a covert experiment, his existence disclosed to only a necessary and select few. Her father knew that the magical world had many reasons for remaining fictional in the eyes of the non-magical community ("Muggles… was it?"). He could probably even accurately guess those reasons. It wasn't hard trying to imagine what would happen if ignorant humans started knowing magic was real. The world wouldn't last another ten years. Djemn helpfully informed him that there were Aurors and Obliviators to prevent that. But as long as those 'necessary and select few' kept silent, there was no reason for them to come knocking on their door. She wasn't sure yet what the penalty would be for abducting and conducting experiments on a werewolf but she wasn't keen to find out.

Djemn's mind was still a whirling mass of thoughts but she kept her face bland and expressionless as they approached the elevator. There will be time for her to express her utter delight later when she had returned to the manor but as long as she was still in foreign surroundings, she must act like the person she was raised to be: cool, calm and collected. Ahead of them, already standing by the closed doors, was a person who looked to be one of the scientists working in the underground centre. She almost, almost blinked when she saw him. His blond hair was so pale— perhaps it wasn't even blond anymore— it was a silver colour. His eyes, silverish-gray, were only several shades darker than that of his hair. His skin was so fair, he would have looked sickly if it didn't look perfectly normal on him. He wore a white suit and matching pants under the white lab coat. Overall, Djemn thought he looked like an albino dunked in white paint. He was too white! Raising her eyes back to his face, she judged him to be in his early or mid-thirties. His features were a delicate mixture of Asia and the West. She would admit that he was rather handsome. Or she _would_ admit that he was rather handsome if not for the feeling that there was something off about the man, something not to do with his lack of humanly colours. There was a tiny tingling at the back of her mind, urging her to stay away from him. It was odd, but her instincts had helped her on more than one occasion in the past and deserved, at the very least, half an ear. So, when they finally came to stand before the man, she stood just a little to the back, to the left and behind of her father.

"General Helesande. I have heard that you were coming here frequently this last month. It seems it is true. Has something caught your interest? Something new, perhaps?"

"Nothing you need know of, Dr.Muraki."

"I see."

A familiar sort of stiffness had entered her father's voice. Not a friendly acquaintance then. Of course, given the way the man, Dr.Muraki, was smiling at him, it was not difficult to see why. It was not a nice smile, not really. Oh, it was polite and even sweet if one didn't look at his eyes. But there was a gleam in them that promised more than respectful interest, as though he knew something they didn't. If Djemn didn't know better, she would have said that he was half-plotting something terrible in his mind. Before she was able to decide what to think of him though, Dr.Muraki had shifted his gaze and was now looking directly at her. His smile widened and she saw a row of perfectly white teeth. Honestly, did the man have issues with colour?

"Ah. This must be…"

Djemn saw his eyes flick towards her father who moved slightly. His new stance was much more suited to introduce her but, as she recalled from her hand combat classes, it was also a much better stance to defend and offend. Or was she just being paranoid?

"Cadet Helesande. Junior black rank at St.Bastian."

The elevator arrived then and the doctor entered after them, resulting in him standing in front of them. Which was a good thing, according to Djemn. After hearing her identity, the brightest spark of amusement had lighted in the scientist's eyes. Perhaps it was because of the way her father had introduced her as a cadet, a student at his school and not as his daughter. Or perhaps it was due to her lack of reaction when her father had introduced her as so. She didn't know. But she did know that the moment that spark had entered his eyes, her instincts had started screaming. She would want him in clear view at all times lest he actually did something. Though that would mean reaching over her father. That thought was the only thing keeping her from brushing her hand across her gun resting at her waist, no matter how rude it might seem.

"General, about my primary research, I'm afraid the results are not forthcoming. There are too many variables surrounding the subject. The samples will not be sufficient." A pause. "Perhaps if I worked more closely with the subject, I would be able to understand better."

Djemn couldn't understand what the scientist thought he was doing. One was not supposed to speak about one's research in the presence of strangers, especially when one was a scientist hired by the government. Somehow she didn't think he was that stupid a person to display such carelessness. Beside her, her father tensed just the tiniest bit. He hadn't moved at all but she could sense the vibes of tension emanating from him. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw the scientist smiling at her father again. This time there was definitely more than respect and interest in them. A feral, somewhat excited sort of air clung to his skin, encouraging a minor twitch in Djemn's hand. When her father spoke again, his voice was tight and unyielding.

"You shall just have to improvise."

Her father's tone left no room for arguments. She had seldom heard it used at home but she knew it well enough that she knew should the scientist try to protest, things could get ugly. But what was so important about this research that it could cause her normally cold father such agitation? Of course, there was the fact that the scientist had spoken about prohibited information in public. She supposed her father would be quite displeased about that, particularly if this research was a significant one.

"Of course."

Dr.Muraki dipped his head slightly in acquiescence, looking not at all disappointed, his smile never once leaving his lips. His answer had been smooth and confident, as though he had known all along that her father would disagree. It made Djemn wonder just what had been his purpose in asking if he had known that his request would be denied. A play of chance? The scientist turned to face the doors and his gaze passed by her for a mere half a second before he was looking away again. It was only half a second, but it was enough time for her to see the slightly crazed burning in his eyes. That was all she needed to convince herself not to trust this man. Her instincts had been right that there was just something wrong about him.

They reached ground level and all three exited the elevator, Djemn and her father walking straight ahead without stopping while the scientist stood motionless in front of the elevator doors. Djemn wasn't sure if her father would elaborate about what had happened in there but she was certain that if he never brought it up, she was expected not to either. There was a reason why he never spoke of his work at the manor and while she was well on her way to becoming his subordinate, there were still restrictions on things she could and could not know, not to mention what he was willing to tell her as a parent. She shall just have to occupy herself with thoughts about the werewolf and forget about the strange incident with the scientist.

However, as they turned a corner to leave the research section, she could still see Dr.Muraki standing there, smiling at them.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Kazutaka watched as the general strode towards the exit, his doll following obediently. He noticed the two white streaks in her hair, flowing down just behind her ears. A genetically inherited trait, from her mother if he remembered correctly. He watched as his doll glanced back at him a last time before she disappeared behind a turning.

"My pretty, pretty puppet."

Oh, how she had grown. Mind, she was still small for her age but at least she was bigger than when he seen her last. He knew it was her from the moment he saw her coming down the corridor. It could not have been anyone else but it was still gratifying to hear the general introduce her, for all that he had never met her before. It was simply funny to hear him refer to her as his cadet, instead of his flesh and blood. One would think he would, given the amount of love, time and resources he splurged on her.

Kazutaka understood. Yes, he understood fully why the general would go as far as to come to him all those years ago. He wanted the best for his heir and he was not afraid to do the immoral to gain it. So powerful was the love of a parent. Of course, Kazutaka's interest had nothing to do with that. Fool was the general to think that he was interested in the werewolf. Yes, he knew about it, could sense it rooms away. But he was long finished with werewolves. There was nothing interesting about _them_, just as there was nothing interesting about his doll before today.

He had first accepted the project because he was intrigued by the advantages provided by the offer. At the time, there was the tiny detail of his wanted state in some countries and the general had promised invisibility should he agree to his demand. The other benefits simply made his life all the more convenient, even if he couldn't choose his patients anymore. He had worked on the project, gotten interested in it and lost interest in it, mainly due to never having actually met his subject. During the last few years, there were things about her which perplexed him, stirring curiosity, but he never saw reason to stew over them for long. Then he felt her.

It was unmistakable, the magic surrounding her. A brief flare of irritation rose in his chest as he thought about it. If only the general had not been as adamant in refusing to let him meet his doll, he would have made _so much_ more progress. He had not known that his doll was magical. One could not tell by the genes alone. Now that he had felt her magic, everything made sense. He could look at his project from a whole new perspective. Doubtless, that also brought up more questions but he was not about to refrain from going full out, not this time. The request to work closer with his doll was a long shot, he knew, but it had still been worth it to ask. Well, since the general was still being impossibly obstinate, Kazutaka could conveniently forget to mention that he was magical too.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn braced herself before hopping off her chopper and heading towards the door that would lead her down to the school. She'd have to admit that St.Bastian looked different in winter. Its normally cobalt blue roof and clear training grounds were covered in white snow. Though it was already nine in the morning, no student was seen practicing outside in the field. Had this been any other month, she would probably have thought that something was wrong. As it was, the school was possibly hosting only a small number of students right now. Unlike other standard boarding schools, St.Bastian's term starts in February and ends in November, with no breaks in between. Some students who opt to take the elective winter course would stay and attend classes but most would prefer to return to their families after ten long months of training. Djemn usually stopped attending in late autumn. There was too big a risk in the changing weather.

Once inside, Djemn casually dusted the snow off her white trench coat. She couldn't really see if there was some sticking on the white fur. Then again, who in their right mind would wear white if they minded the snow? Djemn did but when she woke that morning, she found herself not in the mood for colour. That left the choice of white or grey because her black one somehow eluded her grasp. She didn't quite like the grey one and thus ended up with the white one. Her mother had shrieked when she told her that she wanted to go to school. Cezelia was still high strung after yesterday when her husband had 'abducted' her daughter without telling her. Many reassurances and explanations of a warming potion later, she had settled for ignoring Jean-Roy for the entire day, Christmas or not. This morning, she had only been slightly easier to convince.

Djemn walked down the corridors of St.Bastian, feeling the tiny tinge of nostalgia in the wood floors and stone beams. She had learned many things in this school, faced many opponents and claimed many prizes. She wouldn't be totally honest with herself if she said that she didn't feel any fondness for it. But that was as much as she was willing to admit. Attachments made life harder and more dangerous as it give others the chance to hold something over you. It was the same thing with friends and possessions. With the exception of her family and pets, Djemn didn't see a need to emotionally tie herself to other people. It would only be a burden and a hindrance.

Suddenly, as she walked past the green cadets' classrooms, she felt her instincts burn with the familiar rush of excitement and adrenaline.

_Behind you! _

Djemn twisted around just in time to block the turning kick from connecting with the side of her head. She grabbed the ankle close to her temple and pulled on it, raising her right leg to deliver her own chopping kick to her attacker's chest. He intercepted it and pushed her off. She released his leg and took a battle stance, sizing up her opponent. His dark blue eyes glinted maliciously at her and she knew that this fight wasn't going to be simple. Without warning, her opponent lunged towards her, raining punches at her face and torso. She blocked most of them and leaped back when he tried to ram his knee into her stomach. Then it was her turn to attack. She went in with a feint, dropping the kick when he dodged, and aimed for his face with her left fist. It grazed his cheek slightly and he growled in annoyance. Grabbing her shoulder and arm, he tried to sweep her feet from under her, to force her to the floor, but Djemn merely wretched out of his grip and did a back flip, angling her feet to slam into his chin when she turned over. She landed on her feet some distance away. Her opponent had backed into a divider pillar, nursing his chin with a scowl on his face. He came at her again, punching and kicking. She timed her dodges and attacks to create an opening, knowing that her opponent wouldn't give her one by chance. It came when she caught one of his fists heading for her abdomen. Djemn gave a swift but powerful turning kick to his side and he staggered back to another pillar. At that moment, she saw his hand reach for something and she just as quickly made for a weapon. It barely left her fingers when she found herself the target of a HK USP.

Djemn straightened carefully and stood staring boldly back at her opponent. A crooked smile formed on his features as he held the gun steady in front of her face. Then…

"BANG! You just died."

Djemn gave a slightly smug yet sharp smile. "And _you _have just lost your ability to procreate."

Her opponent's eyes widened and he looked down to see a throwing knife embedded into the wall barely an inch below the joining of his legs. Seizing the opportunity, Djemn viciously slap-kicked the gun out of his hand. It scattered onto the floor and skidded some feet away. Her opponent pulled his hand back to his chest, cradling it with a mock-hurt expression.

"Oww! That's not fair, Helly! You played dirty by using a guy's worst weakness!"

Djemn's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch but she ignored the use of the pet-name. "The end justifies the means. Is that not what you thought when you introduced a gun into this fight?"

Artaxerxes's expression turned mulish, grumbling slightly under his breath. Then his face brightened considerably when he went over to retrieve his gun. It wasn't a real gun, not really, just a model issued by St.Bastian to get its students used to the feel of a gun. Pulling the trigger would force out a certain amount and pressure of air or paint, depending on the type. Not quite deadly but it could still put someone in the infirmary when aimed at the right places.

"Guess four months makes no difference, huh?"

Djemn felt the remaining tension from the fight dissipate into the air as she stared after her friend. He had not changed much, only his deep black hair was longer by a few inches. His navy blue eyes sparkled with the same mischievousness and humour as he returned her throwing knife. The fight was probably his idea of a test to see if Djemn had lost her edge after being away from St.Bastian. He should have known better. But it didn't matter. She would just make sure that that doubt be put to rest. Permanently and painfully.

"I knew you'd have a Christmas break but I didn't think you would come _here_ of all places. You never did during winter. Missed me, Helly?"

There was that pet-name again. He seemed to like using it when he knew it would peeve her.

"No, I missed the facilities here. And do not call me that, Artaxerxes."

Artaxerxes stopped walking beside her. Looking back, Djemn saw him shaking his head in slight disgust.

"_Why_ do you insist on calling me that? Nobody calls me that! Everyone just uses Tax. My friends call me Tax, my mom calls me Tax, …… Heck, even the instructors call me Tax! You're the only one who calls me AR-TAX-XER-XES!"

Oh, that issue again. Djemn turned and continued walking without deigning Artaxerxes with a reply. He had been trying to get her to call him Tax since before their tentative friendship. He had never succeeded and he had yet to give up. To her, the entire ordeal was blown out of proportion. She didn't understand what was so important about this name business. Sure, it was unusual and hard to pronounce but so were the names of many other people. She didn't see her other rankmates trying to get their friends to shorten their names or say them differently. Even if Artaxerxes's name was given to him by his father, a father whom he seemed to dislike, he shouldn't make such a big commotion about it. No, he was just being irrational again. The key was to ignore him.

Sure enough, Artaxerxes caught up next to her a few moments later, muttering under his breath about stubborn girls and lousy names. Well, _he_ wasn't better off, giving her ridiculous pet-names whenever he could. Djemn let a small smile tug on her lips. It was good to be back at her school even if it's just for a little while. She let Artaxerxes escort her all the way to the firing ranges, updating her on all the events she had missed while she'd been away.

"The assessment this year was harder, probably because you left. They didn't want us cadets to think they'd go easy on us after you've gone. Your brats did quite well though. Daniel Parcman actually made the best time in obstacle course II. The greenies, on the other hand, had to suffer a hell lot of bull from Benno cause he was sore from having to take over your sessions. It's a miracle we were still fit enough for the assessment, what with the way that git had been drilling us."

"Would I be over confident then, to assume that you have passed?"

"Of course not! Djemn, who do you think I am? Yours truly, as of last month, has been raised to the rank of sergeant in the military."

Then, Artaxerxes abruptly paused as though he'd just recalled something. Djemn had a faint guess as to what it was but she waited and said nothing, wanting him to tell her in his own time. It was a given that this predicament would fall upon him, just as it would fall upon all others once they'd graduated from green rank. Some of the students had it easier since the decision would be made for them by their families. Others, without the guide of a guardian, decide for themselves. For Djemn, there hadn't even been need to consider the options. She knew what she wanted and she knew what her future would be. But for someone like Artaxerxes, it was more complicated than a simple yes or no.

They reached the ranges and Djemn went over to the shelves to select a preferred firearm while Artaxerxes climbed the ladder to the observatory floor above the circular practice arena, Adriel. He knew that she would choose this one. It was her favourite. This arena was special in the way that not many cadets could use it, due to their inability to cope with the stress incurred from the practice. Aptly named Angel of Death by some of the instructors, this arena had no less than thirty targets, all of which would move randomly all over the arena. The cadet would stand in the middle and shoot at the moving targets, which have no set pattern of movement. The programme ends once all the targets have been hit, sometimes once, sometimes twice. The speed of the targets could be pre-set according to the user but most very rarely go higher than average. The sight of the many targets, constantly moving, looming closer and drawing further at a moment's notice was often described as disturbing and nerve-wrecking by the students. It was hard enough trying to keep one's eyes on the targets, much less shoot at them. And that was why Djemn liked this arena so much. It was challenging.

Artaxerxes saw Djemn walk into the arena with a Glock in her hand and the targets started moving. Oddly enough, it was at the slowest speed. He watched, confused, as she made little work of the practice. Within five minutes, she was done and exited the arena. Artaxerxes waited. He knew that she wasn't satisfied yet and was proven right when she came back into the arena moments later. The targets moved at average speed this time and Djemn took slightly longer to finish the programme. When she did and left the arena again, Artaxerxes hesitated to follow. His gut was urging him to wait and telling him that his friend still wasn't finished. He knew that Djemn could probably use the highest speed in practice but he also knew that he had never seen her do it. She might have used it during black training but seeing it was different from knowing it. So he waited. After a minute or two, he was nearly convinced that Djemn had left him in the ranges until he saw her coming back into the arena. She had a gun in either hand. The targets started moving again, at the highest speed, and Artaxerxes had to fight to control his awe at what he saw.

Two-hand technique. Officially, it was called dual wielding. Djemn was not famous for it but she could execute it well enough that most of her opponents usually try to make sure that she had only one gun. He had barely seen it a handful of times during the two years of their training together. Each time he did, her precise skill had impressed him. This time was no different. He watched as she fired shot after shot in quick succession, hitting targets left and right. She spun around and did the same with the targets moving behind her. He might be imagining it, but he wondered if she was getting high from the practice. She seemed just a too bit trigger-happy from where he stood observing.

The targets stopped moving a few minutes later, signaling the completion of the programme. Artaxerxes climbed down the ladder from the observation floor and turned to look at Djemn. There was a small upturn at the corner of her lips and her eyes were almost half-lidded. He recognized it as her look of contentment. So she _had_ been trigger-happy then.

"Didn't get much practice at the new place?"

Djemn didn't grace him with an answer as she went to replace the guns and throw the empty magazines into the can next to the shelves. Artaxerxes leaned lazily against the wall behind her. He was long used to Djemn ignoring him. Sometimes it was because she didn't want to answer him but most times, she just didn't like to talk much. Watching her put away the Glocks and glancing at the other firearms, he idly wondered about this new institution she was at. He had assumed that it was related to the military but now, he wasn't so sure anymore. Djemn looked far too happy just firing a gun. He couldn't understand it because as far as he knew, she had a small firing range at home. Sure, it was nothing impressive compared to St.Bastian's but still. Artaxerxes chased away those thoughts before they could take root in his mind. He was fairly sure that Djemn would not tell him anything about it, even if he buggered her the whole day and he was not about to waste the next precious few hours doing so.

"Come with me."

Artaxerxes blinked and followed Djemn out of the ranges. She led him some distance away to the combat arenas before she ducked into the changing rooms. He stood there, only half understanding her intentions until she came back out wearing nothing but black shorts and a dark-coloured tank top. He kept his jaw firmly glued together as she walked over to the centre of the training mat and flexed some of her muscles. Then she faced him, jerked her head to the left in a 'come here' motion and said,

"I will wipe the floor with you."

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Artaxerxes lay panting on the mat, trying to not wince too badly at the pain Djemn was inflicting on him. She had him pinned to the floor, his arm twisted behind him agonizingly and her calf pressed onto the back of his knees, preventing any leg movement.

"I yield."

Djemn released and stepped away from him. Artaxerxes slowly flipped himself onto his back and tried to catch his breath, nursing some of his bruised ribs. They were not the extent of his injuries. There was dull aching and minor bruises on both of his arms and legs. Djemn had not been jesting when she said that she would wipe the floor with him. Perhaps she was still irritated over the unprovoked attack earlier. Artaxerxes didn't know but he did know that after four rounds of sparring, he was ready to put up the white flag. Just as she was trigger-happy at Adriel, Djemn was just as enthusiastic in kicking his ass around in hand combat.

As Artaxerxes worked to steady his breathing, he glanced over at Djemn to his left. Her face was flushed to some degree and she had worked up a healthy dose of sweat. Her breath was going at a pace faster than normal though nowhere as ragged as his. He calmly controlled his gaze to wonder not lower than that of her neck. This was the reason his punches had slowed just the tiniest bit whenever he was about to hit her. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen her for four months or maybe it was because his hormones have finally started to make themselves known after sixteen long years, but he had just noticed how _good_ Djemn looked in those shorts and that tight tank top. While a rational part of his mind continuously yelled that she was twelve _bloody_ years old, another part of it kept reminding him that it didn't matter because she was still a hot femme fatale. Long explanation made short, even though Djemn was only twelve this year, she was in no way physically underdeveloped. Her small build even added to the entire pretty doll effect. And with that thought, Artaxerxes realized that if she ever found out about his new perceptions on her, no one would ever find his dead, mutilated body.

Djemn breathing had returned to normal and she was now scrutinizing him with an unreadable expression. Uh-oh. Artaxerxes had seriously hoped that she had not noticed the minute pauses in his attacks though he knew it was probably a futile wish from the way she was looking at him. They had practiced sparring together too many times for her to not notice that something was amiss.

"You were hesitating."

Busted.

Artaxerxes shrugged and decided to be honest with her. "I didn't want to hit you."

Djemn was looking at him weirdly now, a light frown marring her features. She was probably trying to understand _why_ he didn't want to hit her. To her, it was merely another sparring practice, albeit a nastier one for Artaxerxes since she had been set to slaughter him, but a normal sparring practice none the less. He watched her try to comprehend his statement, but he knew that she was more likely to dismiss it than ask the reason for it. She was just like that. A year ago, he might have felt slighted that she didn't care enough to know but he knew different now. He had learned, through excruciating observation, that Djemn didn't like to pry into other people's business, just as she didn't like other people prying into her business. Which is why she never asked when he never told. Sometimes she would prompt him, but only when she thought the information to be important. Other times, she let it go. This was one of the things Artaxerxes both loved and hated about her.

He had been right that Djemn would dismiss it as she shook her head and glanced away. He smiled at her from his place on the floor, thinking just how much he would miss her after this year. He knew that he had not told her if he was going to accept black training and continue at St.Bastian or if he was going to leave the school to take after his father's place. His father's place. Artaxerxes forcefully flushed out those thoughts before they could depress him. The time he had now was precious in the way that he may never again see his friend. And he'd be damned if he wasn't about to enjoy every last minute of it, even if it hurt, both emotionally and (wince)… physically. But, sooner or later, one way or another, he knew he'd still have to tell her.

"I'll be leaving St.Bastian next year."

Djemn turned around to face him and Artaxerxes pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the mat.

"I'll be working under my… my father in America."

He watched her face for reactions. Any reactions, though somewhere in his mind, he clearly knew that he was unlikely to get one. Even the slightest twitch in her left eyebrow which happened whenever she was angry would have sufficed. But nothing. Her expression was bland, her shadow as calm as the surface of a frozen lake.

'_Huh. Frozen lake. Ice princess. Now there's a thought.'_ Thought Artaxerxes.

"I see."

'"_I see."_' And that was all she said. It was so purely her. Only she could reply him with such unfeeling. And to think he'd just announced that he would be leaving the continent soon. He gave her another smile, failing miserably to make it look like he didn't care either about his decision or her lack of emotion. He wouldn't lie to himself. It hurt. To leave his country, to leave his school, to leave his friends… It hurt even more now that he had seen Djemn again. Perhaps it would have been better if she had not come at all, no matter how much he would miss her. At least then, it would only have been a dull throb in his chest when he left, whereas now, Artaxerxes was nearly choking with heartache. But the damage was done. All that was left to do was damage control. Damage control…

Artaxerxes felt as though someone had smacked him in the face. Of course! Why didn't he think of it!

"Djemn, since you're back for the holidays and all… I was hoping you would come to the ball tomorrow. You know, the Christmas ball?"

Djemn regarded him with a slightly raised eyebrow as though asking if he'd lost his mind. He knew she probably thought he did. Everyone at St.Bastian knew that Djemn Helesande didn't attend or even tolerate inconsequential social functions. Asking her to attend one was like asking a male instructor to wear a dress, make-up and wig then parade around doing the conga. It just didn't happen. In short, Artaxerxes had to lay it thick if he wanted her to come. Really thick.

"Please, Djemn? It_ is_ my last year here. It'll be my last party before I leave. I know it's completely ridiculous and pointless for you but won't you just be here for ten, fifteen minutes? Then you can go and… shoot holes in the walls or something. I'll do whatever you want me to. Please? Won't you do this? For me, just for me?"

Towards the end, Artaxerxes let his voice grow softer. He desperately hoped that Djemn would consider his request. He really didn't want their friendship to end just like that, a painful sparring match and an informal goodbye. It would sting too badly every time he thought about it. He looked up to see a semi-thoughtful expression on Djemn's face. A spark of hope alighted, but it diminished just as quickly when a hard sheen entered her eyes. She looked at him seriously for a moment, then delivered words that were as harsh as they were true.

"Artaxerxes, my years with you have taught me things that I would never have learned had you not approached me. And if it would please you so, I would say that our friendship has gained a deeper meaning than I would have wanted it to. But partings are inevitable, as is reality. When you are gone from here, remember my words whenever you feel the need to remember me. Trust cannot be handed out lightly for betrayal is a way of life. No one will value your survival above theirs. Thread your paths with caution so that none may strike whilst your back is turned. Live your days fooling others so that you may not be fooled in return. Do not evade difficulties and do not fear separations… I will wish the best for you in America. But I will not attend the ball tomorrow."

Djemn finished and a tense silence followed. Artaxerxes found that he could not quite look at her in the face as her words repeated again and again in his head. He tried to understand her implications behind those words and the reasons she said what she did. If he held onto his aching heart and listened to them, it was as plain as the sky that she valued him as a friend and wanted him to depart with sound advice while declining to see him again as it would be too painful. But if he discarded his emotions and judged like she told him to, she was just as clearly telling him that she thought their friendship to be a nuisance and that he was a fool to have trusted her. Either way, she wasn't going to be here tomorrow.

Not wanting to stand there in awkwardness, Djemn turned and entered the changing rooms. Artaxerxes followed suit into the boys' section, shuffling along numbly as one part of his mind battled with the other. Soon, the two of them were walking side by side again, moving to the other parts of the school. Along the way, one of them constantly and discreetly glanced at the other while the other desperately tried to ignore the line of thoughts which indicated that his friendship had been nothing more than a farce.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Theodore sipped his tea patiently as he waited for his cousin and aunt to arrive. It was the day after Christmas and he and his mother were at a small but posh muggle café in Cardiff. His father had received word of an urgent meeting of some sort and had rushed off earlier that morning after telling his mother that he won't be back until late. It was the perfect time to meet his maternal relatives.

"Theodore!"

Theodore turned his head and saw his cousin rushing towards him with a wide smile on his face. He stood up and caught him in a tangled hug. Cy embraced him fiercely and Theodore saw his mother shake her head fondly out of the corner of his eye. He knew that he and his cousin were only getting away with their antics because they were still young. Come another year or two, they might have to start greeting each other only by the standard shaking of hands. Blasted traditions! But until then, he was going to enjoy being 'improper'. Besides, who was there to see him anyway? He certainly didn't make it a habit to tell his friends that he would occasionally venture out into the muggle world.

"Hello, Catalina."

"Nerye."

Theodore released his cousin and the two of them watched their mothers clasp hands while looking at each other like they've found a long lost treasure. He couldn't blame them. Once sisters and now they can only meet once or twice a year, and even then, in secret from their spouses. Cy's father wouldn't mind so much but if Ferdinand Nott ever found out about these meetings, … well, Theodore didn't want to imagine what he'd do. An angry pureblood fanatic was about as harmless as a hungry tiger on a diet.

His mother and aunt moved to the side so that they may have some privacy as well as leaving Theodore and Cy to their own devices. The two boys quickly sat down and whipped out their presents for each other. Cy had gotten Theodore a custom-made Swiss army knife with his cousin's initials on it while Theodore had given Cy a pair of omnioculars and a whole lot of wizarding candy. They had decided years ago that they would not overindulge in getting each other presents, partly because it was hard trying to find the right gift and partly because it would look out of place if their presents were ever seen by other people. Best to keep it simple and safe.

"How is Hogwarts this year?"

"The same. The Gryffs are still stupid, the Claws still nerds, the Puffs pushovers, and the snakes as sneaky as ever. Though I might have to get back to you on the Gryffs. We got this new defense teacher who could give them a run for their money. Honestly, don't they care for their reputation? At this rate, he could be named newest thickhead in school. The man could barely hold his wand straight, let alone do anything with it. He would do us all a favour if he just left!"

Cy nodded and listened attentively to his every word. He would of course know all about Hogwarts from his mother. Just because he couldn't attend it didn't mean he couldn't know about it and imagine what it would have been like if he had been magical. Even when a toddler, he had loved to listen to wizarding stories whenever Theodore came to visit him. In return, he would tell muggle tales to Theodore and watch him gape at the stupidity and sometimes sheer brilliance of the non-magical community. Theirs was a mutualistic relationship, benefiting each other in order to understand both worlds.

Theodore was just in the mist of telling Cy about the Transfiguration accident in the fourth year Slytherin-Hufflepuff class when he noticed that his cousin looked just the bit distracted. Now that he thought about it, Cy had begun to seem uncomfortable ever since he started talking about accidents and mishaps.

"Cy, is something bothering you?"

A pause. "Theo, you remember asking me to do research on Djemn Helesande about a month ago?"

Theodore blinked. He didn't think Cy still remembered that. "Yes. You told me to stop because it wouldn't be good to pry into her business. I have to agree with you though she hardly seems interesting anymore. All she ever does is eat, study and hide in her room."

"Well, I kind of searched some more even after warning you not to. I don't know, it just felt weird. Something was not right about her and… I called in a favour from a friend of mine and he hacked into some files in the hospital where she was said to be born. He found _two_ birth certificates bearing the name Djemn Helesande."

Theodore took a moment to think about this new information. "One of them could have been a copy of the original. Or she could have a sister with the same name that we didn't know of."

Cy shook his head sharply. "She couldn't have. Those two certificates were identical. No two babies are born exactly the same, not even identical twins."

"Then it's a copy!"

Cy shook his head again. "The first certificate, the official one and the one open for viewing, was dated 1980. That's correct, right? But the second one was hidden away in some dark corner under layers of security. This one, Theo, stated that Djemn Helesande was born in 1977."

Cy finished and Theodore sat there, speechless. He didn't understand. Helesande couldn't have had a sister because it was simply impossible for two babies to be identical in every aspect. But neither could either birth certificate be a copy of the other because the years of birth were different. Even if by some freak happening of nature (or magic) and the two infants had been born exactly alike, why would the Helesande family want to hide the evidence of their elder child? If said child was alive, she would have only been fifteen this year. It's not as though she could have committed some unforgivable crime like his aunt and was banished from the family registry. It didn't make any sense.

"There was one more thing. An accident, if you may. My friend stumbled upon it without meaning to."

Theodore leaned closer and listened carefully. Cy waited until he saw that he had his cousin's utmost attention then continued.

"He found a death certificate stating that Djemn Helesande had died in 1978."

**Author's Notes:** (rubs hands together in glee) I love cliff-hangers. On a different note, I apologize for the delay. I had to attend a driving lecture, a two day convention and a lunch-movie date with my friends. So basically, real life got in the way. And my unofficial QC is urging me to start my other story ever since she heard the plot. Therefore, I need an extra boost from you guys to keep me going strong on this fic. Reviews, opinions and criticism please. And I'd like to know what you all think about Tax. Like him? Hate him? I plan to use him in the far future but he's going to disappear for a while first. Really big thanks to all who reviewed. Means a lot to me.

Nihil obstat – official approval.

Dr.Muraki Kazutaka or Kazutaka Muraki depending on your usage of eastern (former) or western (latter) addressing – a borrowed character from Yami no Matsuei / Descendents of Darkness. No belonging to me. He's just borrowed and has nothing to do with the overall plot of the story.

To KRP: Did I make it sound like I was targeting you in the last AN? I wasn't and I'm very sorry if I made you feel that way. It's just that the questions arose and I wanted to explain them before anyone got confused. And Djemn wouldn't know about werewolves yet 'cause they only covered it in third year, remember? She hasn't gotten there yet. There's a reason for why I'm doing this and don't worry about Jean-Roy; he's the epitome of hush-hush.

To Potterfreak52390: Nope, it ain't Remus. Got my QC to blame for that. Initially, I had wanted to use him but she shot the idea right out of my head and viciously stomped on it. Worst thing is, she did it with a whopping load of logic and nothing but logic.

I'm not sure when the next chap will be out but I'll try to keep updating. Have a nice day everyone.


	17. 17: We're Having a Ball

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 17 – We're Having a Ball. **

She did _not_ appreciate this situation.

She did _not_ appreciate the attention.

And she did NOT appreciate the fact that she had to put up with it.

Djemn wasn't quite sure if there were many things that can cause her to lose her temper, for she seldom did, but this… _this_ was beyond words! She had no doubts that her parents had been in it together. How else could her mother have prepared everything so quickly? And her father had deliberately waited till the very last minute to inform her. He probably knew that she would somehow find a means to evade the event. And she would have, if only she had a _little_ bit more time…

Djemn was currently at St.Bastian, in the ballroom, wearing a very nice evening dress, and trying not to shatter the glass of punch in her hand with her fingers. Her father had insisted—no, that wasn't right—_ordered_ her to attend the annual St.Bastian Christmas ball. He had made it very clear that she was to present herself there and _socialize_ with the other students. The punch dipped dangerously close to spilling as she recalled the conversation. Apparently, he had a 'friend' who was visiting for Christmas. Army General Chavanson from France was here for an informal meeting with her father and he had brought his two sons with him. Lord Chavanson knew that Jean-Roy had founded a school in northern England sometime in the last decade and had graciously asked if his sons could be in attendance at the Yule celebration. How could her father decline? And how could she, the daughter of the founder who had guests attending the ball, not grace them with her presence? Grace them with her presence…… Pufh!

Now, one might think that with her obvious disdain for petty social functions, she would prove to be a klutz at such events, but that's where they were wrong. Cezelia Helesande had taken it upon herself to hammer etiquette, properness, manners, decorum, and everything else relevant into her daughter's head even before Djemn had been enrolled into St.Bastian. As a child, she had been taught to understand and answer to the subtle underlying meanings in conversations amongst all types of people, to distinguish expressions and atmospheres, to feel the fluidity of traditional dances, to be beautiful, and above all, to act like a coy female wanting nothing better than some attention. However, she wasn't raised to become a pretty, simpering, trophy wife, but a powerful, independent, future matriarch of a family. The only setback in her mother's plans to make her the perfect lady was her father's training. While Cezelia stressed on the way her daughter walked, talked and dressed, at the same time, Jean-Roy was overseeing her martial arts lessons. Her father didn't disapprove of his wife's efforts but that didn't mean that he would let his only successor become a charming doll simply to be married off to some boy from some influential line. No, Jean-Roy was very sure of what future he wanted for his blood and _that_ wasn't it. So, he had trained her, drilled her and prepared her according to his half of beliefs on what sort of person his daughter should be. The end result: a confident, skilled female who can be merciless on the battlefield yet soft-spoken in the tearoom.

However, raised with two vastly different types of upbringing, Djemn also had to know by heart which personality she had to bear when faced with diverse surroundings. She had to know by instinct whether she should assume her soldier role or the gentle gestures of a lady-in-making. At home, where her mother reigned supreme, she wore proper dresses and carried no sort of weapon. At school, she was the unwavering, steadfast cadet and the unrelenting instructor. Up until now, none of the other students or trainers have ever seen the other side of her personality. Little wonder if they would be struck speechless by her sudden transformation.

Djemn saw many of the other students constantly glance her way. They weren't even bothering to hide their evident staring. It can't have been helped. She forced a small, polite smile onto her face and gentle turned away to covertly glare a hole into the twelve foot high Christmas tree. She wouldn't fault her schoolmates' curiosity for even _she_ had problems believing she was really there in the first place. Had this been a month ago, no one would have believed it, including her, if someone had said that she would be at the ball. But now, in the space of just a few hours, her parents had single handedly ruined whatever semi-belligerent reputation she had built for herself over the years.

'_Congratulations, father. You have just informed them that I can be feminine and that I am susceptible to courtship. I hope you are pleased with yourself. Especially in a few years time when old men start offering to buy me off for their grandsons.'_ Thought Djemn dryly.

When asked about what she had against these celebrations, she'd have to point out the sheer pointlessness in them. What was the use of organizing gatherings where people laugh and speak without an ounce of sincerity? Granted, everyone wore a mask and wiggled their way through life using lies and deceptions, but it's during little get-togethers like these that they apply the full extent of their fraudulence. In other words, they lie through their teeth. And because it's such a celebration, they get away with it. To start off, they frolic around, exchanging the latest news, then rumours and gossip are served as the main course and lastly, everyone's favourite dessert, scandal. And Djemn was not just talking about antics of the female-kind; men gossip equally as much, as bad as eager, mundane housewives at a marketplace. The teenage version of such gatherings simply circulated around a slightly different circle of topics but it was essentially the same. Then, there was also the usual play of ulterior motives. Men target women and power, women target money and fame. It was always the same old game again and again. Djemn had been to enough balls, galas and soirees to know that.

To make matters short and simple, she did not like balls, she did not like the people at balls, and she was not happy that she had to be at a ball.

"Djemn! You came!"

Djemn turned around and came face to face with a very, very, happy Artaxerxes. He beamed at her with a smile so wide, she was partially afraid it might split his face in two. That would be nasty. Glancing down, she noticed he was wearing the standard black tuxedo jacket minus the bow at the neck.

"There were… complications…"

Artaxerxes shook his head, the obscenely wide smile still on his face. "I don't care! You're here! After what you said yesterday, I didn't think that you… would……"

Pause. Djemn followed his gaze and saw it run up and down her figure. Then he said something that sounded suspiciously like "Holy virgin mother of god…" in a tiny voice. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. She suppose she _could_ take the compliment that he found her attractive in a dress but she still didn't very much appreciate the fact that he was checking her out in what was such an obvious way. He was her partner, it was just wrong. And it wasn't as though she was exposing an inappropriate amount of flesh, unlike some of the other girls at the ball.

Stepping forward, Djemn raised a fist and punched Artaxerxes sharply on the left shoulder. He winced and snapped out of whatever daze he was in, reaching up to rub on the sore joint. That will teach him to think with his other brain.

"It is scientifically proven that too much testosterone destroys brain cells." said Djemn in a flat tone.

A bit of colour entered Artaxerxes's cheeks but it left as soon as it came. Then he smiled brightly at her again.

"I'm just glad you came, no matter the reason. Now at least I know it won't fall on deaf ears."

His smile turned devilish, like every other time he was planning a prank on her. Djemn raised an eyebrow slightly. He had known that she wasn't coming today but yet he was still going to proceed with whatever he had planned?

Artaxerxes checked his watch. "Not long now." He smirked at her. "You'll see."

Then he moved away in the crowd, leaving Djemn to stand alone again. And if she recalled correctly, he was the only person to have approached her at all that evening. The other students were probably too off-balanced with her appearance or too nervous around her, considering her rank and all, to actually make conversation. She was sure her foreboding aura earlier hadn't helped much either, regardless if she was smiling or not. Sighing softly, Djemn looked around the rectangular room that had been her prison for the last two hours. A large stage was opposite the entrance doors on the left. Counters covered in white linen lined the ballroom, presenting assorted foods and beverages. Circular tables in deep red tablecloth were scattered around the dance floor, providing areas for dining and discussion. On both sides of the entrance were marble stairs, which led to the floor above the ballroom. This was where the older students went to converse about their more important issues. Intricately carved railings made it open to view the dance floor below. Various Christmas decorations lined the walls and balcony, causing the room to be decked in bright, gaudy colours. And lastly, the twelve-foot tall Christmas tree standing next to the curtained stage.

Djemn turned bored eyes to the festivities happening around her. She still had no idea what her father had hoped for her to achieve by making her come to this ridiculous, not to mention, childish gathering. Yes, it would have been very rude if she had not come but it was proving to be ever so redundant as she had yet to see or even hear about the presence of the two 'famed' Chavanson brothers. Perhaps they had changed their mind about attending. If so, she was going to have some words with her father when she got home.

"May I have your attention, please? Fellow cadets and cadettes?"

Attention in the ballroom turned to the stage where Ivory Higgins, a comedic junior Blackie who was well liked by many in the school, was calling for notice. He smiled widely behind the microphone as he waited till he had the interest of the room.

"As you all know, it is custom during the ball to have at least one performance by students soon to leave our beloved Saint Bastian Private Academy. Whether it'll end as an embarrassing event or a memorable one is entirely up to them. This year, we have an all greens boy band. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome 'Phantoms' and their song 'Lithium Flower'!"

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"So you came to England with your father. How is it that you're here though? Not many people are allowed entrance to this ball. Most of the time it's just the students and trainers."

"My father has a friend who works in the management. He thought it would be beneficial to us if we learned more about our English cousins."

Constant sighed mentally. If he had to explain that to some silly English lass _one more time_, he would promptly find the punch bowl and attempt to knock himself out by excessive drinking. There remained a large question as to whether or not he would really lose consciousness but it was worth a try. However, that would leave his twin punch-less and brother-less to defend against the onslaught of sycophantic English females. God knows he will not last the night without him. For the sake of his younger brother, he shall just have to endure… yes, endure… Constant glanced around and behind the tight circle of girls surrounding him and his twin, Cyrille. They had long since given up trying to escape as the only result would be even _more_ girls, and sometimes a few boys, crowding around them once they caught sight of their 'guests'.

When Constant and Cyrille de Chavanson had first asked to go to the annual St.Bastian Christmas ball, they had no idea that it would prove to be such a chore! The organizing was fine, the food and decorations were splendid, but the girls! They act as though they've never seen a Frenchman before. Considering their families and ranks in society, there was a high chance that they have. Perhaps it had to do with them not coming from a military school then. Yes, perhaps they were so alien to the students of St.Bastian that it warranted repeated questions from every person and continuous attention pined on them. It was exasperating to say the least. Due to their appearances, it wasn't unusual for the two of them to be admired and both Constant and Cyrille had gotten quite used to the subtle appreciations from their own friends but _this_ was ridiculous. After two dreadful hours of patient, polite tolerance, Constant wasn't sure he or his twin could take it much longer. Though he supposed there was the bright side that no one had tried to get physical yet.

"Emily, have you heard? Hell Blackie is _here_!"

"You're pulling my leg. Everyone knows she's an anti-social function person. She's only ever present for award ceremonies."

"It's true! And she's wearing a dress! Her hair's down! That's why you can't recognize her at first glance!"

"Show me then."

Constant and Cyrille turned their attention towards the two girls' conversation, glad for the diversion. They followed the direction of the girls' gazes and saw what seemed to be a small girl speaking to an older boy. The girl looked very young and had long black hair falling just a few inches short of her waist. She was wearing a dark blue dress that looked vaguely of Chinese design with numerous silver snakes coiling their way up her body. An expensive make, specially tailored, if the twins were to judge by their own experience. The dress wrapped itself snugly around her, projecting a sense of elegance and maturity that seemed out of place on a girl so young.

"Oh my Lord! I can't believe… Is she wearing heels? Are those heels under her feet?" said Emily breathlessly.

"I think so… Unbelievable, isn't it?" her friend replied.

Constant wasn't sure what was so unbelievable. She was a girl. All girls wear dresses and high-heeled shoes at least once in their lives. There was nothing special about it. Or perhaps there was. He watched with a raised eyebrow as the young girl stepped closer to the boy she was speaking to and swiftly delivered a hard punch to his shoulder. The boy visibly winced and rubbed at his injured body-part to soothe the pain induced by the strike. Then she said something to him and he blushed ever so slightly before smiling at her.

"I suppose some things never change regardless of attire. She's still beating up poor Tax."

This caught the twins' attention. A small girl who beat up older boys on a regular basis? Definitely worth investigating. Besides, it would keep the group's line of thoughts on someone else and away from the two of them.

"Pardon me, but who is this 'Hell Blackie' whom you speak of?"

"Hell Blackie, real name Djemn Helesande." explained Emily. "We call her that because the only training anyone would get from her is hell training. She doesn't tolerate insubordination or insolence. And her punishments are usually harsher than the offence."

"She's an instructor?" asked Cyrille in disbelief, glancing back at the petite girl. Her male friend was now waving at her. Then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving the girl alone at the wall.

"_Instructing cadet._" Emily corrected. She paused a moment. "Are you familiar with St.Bastian's ranking system?"

"We're afraid not."

"Well, students at St.Bastian are ranked by colour. There are three colours: blue, green and black. Every year, fifty new cadets will be enrolled as first year Blues, or junior Blues as they are some who can miraculously fail their year-end assessment and remain in the same rank for the following year. From there, they will work their way to senior Blue, junior Green, mid Green, and senior Green. Then, for students who are seeking vocation in the military, they advance to Black. The total duration for Black training is entirely up to the capabilities of the cadet. It may take up to four years at a time. Black cadets are required to instruct their juniors while studying to become the officers they aspire to be. Helesande is an instructing cadet because she is ranked junior Black."

"How old is she, exactly?"

"This year? Twelve, if I'm not mistaken. That's normally the age of new intakes, but she started here when she was only nine."

"Do you mean to say that she is authorized to coach the majority of students in this school despite her youth?" asked Constant cautiously. He was intrigued but he must be careful for fear of incurring the wrath of the St.Bastianites. If what he heard was true, there can be no doubt that there would be displeasure lurking somewhere in the hearts of the other cadets, especially since they were all older than the girl. Imagine having to take orders from someone who wasn't even old enough to be counted as a teenager. It can't have bided well for some of them.

"Yes, that's exactly what it means. Though that does not imply that everyone's happy with the arrangement. Some students are still harbouring doubts as to her real strength."

Abruptly, Emily stopped speaking and glanced to the side, as though debating with herself whether she had said more than she should have to a stranger. Both Constant and Cyrille noticed this but said nothing to push. Instead, Cyrille tended to something that had been bothering him for a while in the back of his mind.

'Helesande… Helesande… 'Tis familiar. Where have we heard that name before?'

Then it hit him and he nudged his brother discreetly to see if he realized it too. Constant blinked once at him to show that he did.

"Djemn Helesande. She is daughter of the founder, General Helesande, is she not?"

"Yes." replied Emily.

And that solved the question of how Djemn managed to enroll at such a young age as well as why some students were discontented with her rank. They probably thought she bought it through her father.

Both boys looked over to where Djemn stood staring dismissively at her surroundings. Their father had mentioned that he was meeting a general named Helesande and that he had a daughter attending the school they would visit. So she was the one. Considering the fact that their fathers were friends, all the things they've heard about her were not all that surprising. It took an extraordinary man to catch the attention of Lord Chavanson, just as it took an extraordinary person to catch the interest of his sons.

"— welcome 'Phantoms' and their song 'Lithium Flower'!"

This night will not go wasted after all.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

He knew he was partaking in a very dangerous act. It made him giddy, gave him goose bumps. Just thinking about the situation itself made him feel like laughing hysterically. But he had to keep a hold of himself. Because this will be the last. Steadying the microphone in front of him, he waited for the tell-tale clicks of the drumsticks.

One, two, three, four……

Taking a deep breath, he let the lyrics say what he wouldn't have been able to otherwise.

_She's so cold and human_

_It's something humans do_

_She stays so golden solo _

_She's so number nine _

_She's incredible math_

_Just incredible math (just incredible math) _

_And is she really human?_

_She's just so something new_

_A waking lithium flower_

_Just about to bloom_

_I smell lithium now_

_Smelling lithium now (smelling lithium now) _

_How is she when she doesn't surf? (she doesn't surf?) _

_How is she when she doesn't surf? (she doesn't surf?) _

_How is she when she doesn't surf? (she doesn't surf?) _

_I wonder what she does when she wakes up_

_When she wakes up (When she wakes up) _

_So matador_

_So calm_

_So oil on a fire_

_She's so good_

_She's so good_

_She's a goddess lithium flower_

_So sonic wave_

_Yeah, she's so groove, yeah (yeah)_

_She's so groove, yeah (yeah)_

_Wow, where did she learn how to surf? (learn how to surf?) _

_Wow, where did she learn how to surf? (learn how to surf?) _

_Wow, where did she learn how to surf? (learn how to surf?) _

_You know I've never seen the girl wipe out_

_How does she so perfectly surf? (perfectly surf?) _

_How does she so perfectly surf? (perfectly surf?) _

_How does she so perfectly surf? (perfectly surf?) _

_I wonder what she does when she wakes up_

_I wanna go surfing with her_

_I wanna go surfing with her_

_I wanna go surfing with her_

_I wanna go surfing with her…… _

Artaxerxes cast one last grin at the lone girl standing at the wall to the left of the ballroom and fervently hoped that he would make it out of the party alive.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

She. Was. Going. To. Kill. Him. No, murder was too merciful. She will disembowel him then feed his innards to her father's fish. His bones will go to her Dobermans as chew-toys. His eyes will serve as an excellent treat for her reptiles. Then, if she was feeling charitable, she would donate his gory remains to whichever hospital that was under her father's influence. They'll never find his body.

Djemn struggled to control her rage as she automatically approached the closest counter to deposit the glass in her hand before she truly shattered it. That— that insufferable, infuriating— He had the gall to— Just he wait until she got her hands around his cleanly shaven neck— How dare he attempt such a, such a… mortifying act! This was, by far, his most public and degrading prank on her since they have been partners. It hadn't taken much intelligence to identify the subject of the song (the two of them were generally regarded by the school as best friends) and by the time it entered the second verse, people were already looking in her direction. As though she needed him to remind everyone that she was present. He was very much a dead man. She was going to skewer him then gut him like a fish…

Stop.

Djemn paused in her thoughts then realized that she had unknowingly reverted back to her soldier self. Or perhaps she had never really switched from the start. After all, there had never been a need for her to be anyone else when she was at St.Bastian. It wouldn't surprise her if her subconscious had robotically chosen her nastier alter-ego while she was here at the school. With that thought, Djemn unhooked parts of her rage from her mind and went back to smiling pleasantly at the other students. Once she'd convinced them of her seemingly lady-like contentment with the evening, earning some odd looks from some of her ex-trainees, she continued to analyze why she had wanted to hurt Artaxerxes. To a soldier, attention was one of the worst things to have. Excluding the times when one was hoping for a promotion or award, all and any sort of attention almost always brought misfortune. If you were too outstanding in the academy, you drew the attention of the higher ranks and the chances are you will be sabotaged and beaten up for being an upstart usurper. Djemn had personal experience from this. No doubt it will little different in the actual military. Then, even if you've managed to garner respect, if you stood out too much, there was a higher risk of people wanting to off you. Life was just like that, with people willing to go to the limits and eliminate competition. The final and most important reason for a soldier not to have attention was when said soldier was in enemy territory. No need to elaborate on what will happen if the soldier managed to draw the attention of the adversary. What Artaxerxes did was simply mortifying and, if Djemn allowed herself to admit it, embarrassing.

One of the Black cadets passed by her and she smiled amiably. He raised an eyebrow at her expression, nodded in greeting then walked off, presumably so that he wouldn't be near her if the smile had meant anything more then it did. Djemn sighed mentally. There was at least another two more hours before she could leave.

"Mademoiselle?"

Djemn turned her thoughts away from the sixth way she could kill Artaxerxes, involving the salad bowl, table cloth and punch ladle, to see two identical looking boys calling for her notice. They seemed to be a few years older than her and of non-British heritage. Both had shoulder length blonde hair tied neatly at the nape of their necks and light, greenish blue eyes. With smooth, fair complexion, theirs was a pleasing picture. She greeted them politely and waited to hear what they wanted. But both merely stood staring at her for a moment, though not long enough to seem rude. Then, the boy on the left spoke in what was a lightly French-accented voice.

"Forgive us, Mademoiselle, for we cannot move. We are stunned by your beauty."

And this was why she hated these parties. But, _socialize_, her father says. Oh well, two… or three, can play that game. Djemn smiled coyly at the two boys, tilting her head in just the right angle, and prepared to amuse herself.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Artaxerxes sat twiddling his friend's drumsticks between his fingers. He was backstage with some of his band mates and all the band equipment, just wasting time away. He had figured that it would be better and, in a way, safer, for him to wait out the first few stages of Djemn's fury. To let it deflate a bit before finally confronting her to survey the damage. If her expression by the end of the song had been any indication, she was not pleased. Tax didn't want his arm dislocated mercilessly in front of nearly the entire school so it was common sense that he be MIA for a while. Of course he couldn't hide the whole night. Even if his partner didn't come find him, he still had things he wanted to say to her before she left. So he was just going to sit there for another few minutes or so, avoiding the unavoidable.

"Tax! Tax, you gotta see this!"

Tax looked up to see Todd Walters, one of his second year Greenie friends, making his way over to him. His eyes were wide and his face flushed. When he reached Tax, he seemed to hesitate and gesture jerkily, as though not knowing how to put his thoughts into words. Giving up with a frustrated sigh, he pulled Tax up roughly by the arm and started pushing him towards the curtains.

"Hey, Todd! What's the big idea?"

Next thing Tax knew, Todd had pulled back the stage curtain and was pushing his face into the tiny gap between it and the stage wall. The opening was small but it still enabled Tax to have a rather complete view of the ballroom. He blinked, confused, as he spent a moment observing the many party-goers. Seeing nothing odd, Tax pulled his head back and glared at Todd.

"Todd, was there a point to you hauling my ass from backstage and sticking my face between the curtains?" he asked irritably.

Todd rolled his eyes then scowled at Tax. "Look at Helesande, you doink!"

Frowning, Tax looked back out from behind the curtain and searched for his friend, his eyes zeroing on her pinkish shadow. What he saw made him freeze like someone had dumped liquid nitrogen on him. Djemn was dancing with some blond bloke about his age, smiling and occasionally saying something to him. She moved with more feminism than in all the years Tax had known her put together. He watched, back stiff, as another boy, identical to the one who had been dancing with her, cut in and Djemn switched dance partners.

"I don't know about you but I've never seen her so… un-Helesande-ish." said Todd.

Neither had he. Tax didn't even know how to begin to explain what he was feeling at the sight. On one hand, it was none of his business if Djemn wanted to dance with someone. She was a free person. She could do whatever she wanted. And it was nice to see her smiling like that. Then he realized that he didn't like seeing her dance with some guy. No, that wasn't it. He didn't like seeing her dance with some guy and _enjoy_ it. Why though? Was he jealous? He couldn't be. He didn't fancy her. He was attracted to her, yes, but because of her talents and strengths, not romantically. He respected her and admired her, in a way, but none of that could explain the tight feeling in his chest and why he felt like ripping both boys' heads off. An image of Djemn, sweaty and panting in a tight tank top and shorts flashed across his mind. Okay, so there was a chance of him feeling sexually attracted to her since yesterday, but that was just the hormones talking.

The blond boy tipped Djemn at the waist and she laughed at something he said. At seeing this, something hot and ugly flared in Tax.

"Tax? You okay?"

Tax released the curtain and turned to face Todd. Something must have shown on his face as his friend took just a minor step backwards.

"I'm fine."

After a quick round of thanks and parting greetings with his band mates, Tax and Todd started back towards the ballroom. Along the way, the former mulled over what he had just realized while watching Djemn. He hadn't thought that he was anything like _that man_ but he was. It was a depressing thought, to realize that he was a possessive person like his father. And that was the reason for the tightness he had felt. He _was_ jealous, but not because he fancied Djemn. It was because she was enjoying her time with someone else. Not him. He supposed part of the reason was because he was so spoilt by her attention. Over the years, he was so used to the idea that _he_ was her friend, _he_ was the one she came to for peer opinion, _he_ was her preferred practice partner. No one else at the academy was as close to her as he. Thus, the sight of her smiling so unreservedly at someone else had been… disturbing. And, as he and Todd reentered the ballroom, Tax decided that he was going to put an end to that disturbance. It was selfish, yes, but it was his last day with her. He was allowed that selfishness.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"—It has been on my mind for a while… is your dress of Chinese design?" asked Constant.

"Yes. It is called a Qipao, a traditional Chinese dress for women."

Djemn, Constant and Cyrille were sitting at a table, sipping punch and conversing like the proud, eloquent children of the rich and influential. All in all, it was not as exasperating as Djemn thought it would be. For one thing, the Chavanson brothers had intelligence, which was more than what she could say about many boys their age with their amount of money. The twins exuded a sense of mellowness and maturity seldom seen among her peers and it was refreshing, even if they appear to be fond of weaving obvious and blatant flattery in their words. Perhaps her father wasn't just being sadistic after all.

"Silver snakes. Intriguing design. Would I be right to assume that it is made from Chinese silk as well?"

"Yes, you would be right, Monsieur Cyrille. It is."

"Ah. Then would you be so kind as to grace us with the name of this designer who produced such a magnificent dress?"

Now this was one compliment Djemn appreciated hearing, and she was about to tell the twins that her mother had sewn it for her when another voice abruptly interrupted their conversation.

"Djemn, there you are! I have been searching all over for you."

The company of three turned to face Artaxerxes as he came to stop beside Djemn. She noticed, with mild intrigue and amusement, that the smile on her friend's face was all too polite and a tad distant from his eyes. How odd. Oh well, if there was something bothering him, all the better. She hadn't forgotten about his little act and her self-determined mission to maim him.

Artaxerxes looked up from her to eye the two brothers at the table. "I beg your pardon for interrupting but I simply must have a word with my friend. If you would excuse us?"

Politeness was not his forte and as a result, his subtle disruption of their talk was not so subtle. Djemn tried not to show what she thought of this by discreetly hiding the smile at the corner of her lips.

"Of course." answered Constant.

Remembering her manners, Djemn stood to at least introduce her guests before leaving.

"Artaxerxes, may I introduce Constant de Chavanson, and his brother Cyrille de Chavanson, sons of French Army General Albert de Chavanson. Monsieur Constant, Monsieur Cyrille, this is Artaxerxes Manuel, a senior Green here at St.Bastian."

"Ah, oui. The lead singer from the 'Phantoms'. We enjoyed your performance." Both brothers stood to grasp hands with said cadet.

"Thank you." replied Artaxerxes. Then he looked towards Djemn again, intending to depart with her when Constant suddenly spoke, halting them.

"Forgive me, but I cannot help wondering… if you are perhaps related to King Manuel?"

Djemn was not uncertain that she had seen a hard sheen come over Artaxerxes's eyes at the elder twin's question. Oh, Constant was sharp, clever, but such boldness as to directly confirm a suspicion. Something that should not have been done by someone as skillful in social affairs as he. Immediately, Djemn could almost see the gears turning in all three boys' heads. She recognized the question as it was. A subtle provocation. No doubt to see how her friend would react.

Artaxerxes turned his head slightly to regard Constant with aloof coolness. He kept his reply curt and polite even as he inspected the French boy with distaste in his eyes. "I am. Excuse us."

Firm fingers closed around Djemn's wrist and escorted her away from the table even as Constant made a soft acknowledging sound to Artaxerxes's reply. She let him lead her some distance away from the twins before applying some pressure to her heels, pulling back from the hand tugging her along. Artaxerxes glanced at her and she narrowed her eyes at him, knowing that he would understand her silent threat.

'_Unhand me or I will hurt you.' _

Artaxerxes tilted his head in what was an arrogant gesture and ignored the warning. It was a dare.

'_You wouldn't dare. Not in front of all these people when you've spent the entire evening trying to act not like yourself.' _

He led her up the marble staircase to a spot on the balcony where there were fewer people around. Only then did he release her wrist and leaned forward against the elaborate limestone railings. Djemn spent a moment just staring heatedly at the back of Artaxerxes's head, wondering if it would hurt her knuckles terribly if she punched him there really hard, and if it would be worth the pain.

"I know we've said our goodbyes yesterday but it doesn't feel right anymore since you're here now. So, I want a proper farewell this time, complete with sappy, teary nonsense if that's possible."

"If you wish to be sentimental, I suggest you find someone else." replied Djemn flatly.

At that, Artaxerxes just started laughing. His shoulders shook as he tried to suppress his mirth. Djemn blinked at him. What in the world did he find so funny about what she said? After a while, he stopped chuckling and gave her one of the looks he sometimes gave her. The somewhat sad, somewhat distant, somewhat I'm-so-amused-with-you look. Then he sighed and turned back to lean his elbows on the railing. Djemn frowned. Put out and suddenly devoid of the will to want to hurt something, she went to stand next to Artaxerxes on the balcony, resting her hands on the cool limestone. From their position above the ballroom, she could still see the twins sitting alone at the table, speaking with semi-serious expressions on their faces. One of them caught her looking and nudged the other. They raised their glasses to her in a toast salute. She waved back. Beside her, Artaxerxes scowled.

"Who are they anyway? Not from the academy, I'm sure."

"They are guests. Father invited them."

"Is that why you're here tonight? Because your father had guests attending?"

"Yes."

Silence enveloped them for a moment.

"And here I was thinking that I mattered."

Before Djemn managed to think of a suitable reply to Artaxerxes's musing, he shook his head and turned to her with a goofy grin.

"Did you like the song?"

Djemn's left eyebrow ticked. Quick as a striking cobra, her hand came up to his face and pinched him hard on the cheek, tugging it viciously to the side.

"Ow,ow! Djemn, ow! Pain, ow!"

Her lips pursed and she released him after another moment. The sensitive flesh was red by then and Artaxerxes rubbed at it tenderly, looking at her with a kicked puppy expression. Djemn ignored it.

"What you did was unnecessary and you are well aware of it." She said in a low tone.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it any less fun or entertaining. Besides," he hurriedly continued, seeing the dangerous glint return to Djemn's eyes. "I wanted to say that I'll miss you. I'll miss you a lot." He paused here for dramatic effect. She simply stared at him indifferently. "I understand what you said yesterday, about separations, trust, survival, reality. It's all too real to ignore. But there was once a man who said that, sometimes, happiness is obtained through believing what one will, and that that was the only truth there is. So, I'm going to believe what I want. I'm going to believe that this school won't be the same without me. I'm going to believe that you'll miss me as much as I'll miss you, even thought you won't admit it. I'm going to believe that you _do_ think me your friend, never mind that you've never once called me as such. Because I'm a delusional little boy who won't give up his happiness for anything in the world. And I think that somewhere along the line, we're all just trying to deceive ourselves one way or another. Maybe one day, I'll choose to wake up, and face bitter reality. I don't know. But until then, all's right with the world."

He grinned at her. Djemn merely frowned at him and looked back down to the ballroom.

"And who was this man?"

"Dunno. Made him up. Sounds better that way."

Her lips twitched at the sheer absurdity of it all but said nothing to rebut. He had made his point clear. The two of them continued to watch the people below silently, letting a companionable peace stay between them. It had been long since they had just enjoyed each other's company without either one trying to hurt or annoy the other. She hadn't forgotten of course, but it was a luxury she couldn't have afforded to accustom herself to. Below them, laughter rang about and couples danced gracefully on the polished wood dance floor.

"I am so going to miss this." Artaxerxes's voice was soft over the music of the ball. Djemn couldn't tell if he was speaking about them being together or about the school in general.

"What say you to a last practice match? Weapons or weapons-free, your choice. We'll just duck out of this place. No one will notice. You can apply the extent of your brute strength on me. I'm sure you've still got excess anger leftover." He said playfully.

She eyed him with a raised eyebrow. An offer? Directly after yesterday? Then again, he wouldn't have another chance of it anymore. And there was still a solid hour before her pilot would be ready to take her home.

"Alright."

"But before then…"

He bowed and extended his hand. "Dance with me."

Djemn looked from his face to the offered hand and back to his face again. A still playful smile was on his lips but his eyes were serious. It wasn't a joke.

She felt like narrowing her eyes. Damn him and his sentimentalities. But it was probably a trait all of them had, to seize the opportunity when it presented itself. It was just irritating when she wasn't the one taking the advantage.

"Our first and last dance, Djemn. I promise I won't disappoint. And you can beat the stuffing out of me later."

She intended to. Sighing softly, she conceded and gave him her hand.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

**ISDES HAS JOINED THE ROOM.**

**Bombay: **Welcome back, Isdes.

**Isdes:** Thank you. It is good to be back.

**X:** Would you like the data from the last four months?

**Isdes:** Yes, thank you. Please transfer them to my account. And I would like a brief overview of worldly events as well.

**X:** Very well. Perfect Soldier?

**Perfect Soldier:** On October the second, a riot broke out at the Carandiru Penitentiary in Sao Paulo, Brazil, leading up to the Carandiru Massacre. The riot was initiated by the inmates as a sort of revolution. 111 prisoners were killed when the military police stepped in. Colonel Ubiratan Guimaraes was later sentenced to 632 years in prison for his inhuman handling of the rebellion. On November the third, Bill Clinton defeated former U.S. President George H. W. Bush in the United States Presidential Election. On December the third, United Nations Security Council Resolution 794 was unanimously passed, approving a coalition of UN peacekeepers led by the U.S. to form Unified Task Force or UNITAF which is aimed to ensure humanitarian aids are distributed and peace is established in Somalia. The following day, on the fourth, U.S. military forces invaded the country.

**Bombay:** September 23rd, The Irish Republican Army deployed a large bomb to destroy several forensic laboratories in Belfast. As far as sources know, no other area was targeted. November 25th, The Czechoslovakia Federal Assembly voted to split the country into The Czech Republic and Slovakia. The split is to be official starting the 1st of January 1993. December 6th, in Ayodhya, India, Hindu extremists demolished the 16th century Babri Mosque in a riot.

**Laughing Man:** On September 15th, Mihkel Mathiesen assumed presidency of the Republic of Estonia in exile. He also appointed a new government to avoid abolition of the government in exile. Two days later, on the 17th, two Kurdish opposition leaders were assasinated by Kazem Darabi, an Iranian, and Abbas Rhayel, a Lebanese.

**Isdes:** There is no news concerning Sadsein?

**X:** No. It seems that he is keeping a low profile at the moment. We can expect something to happen by mid next year, the latest.

**Perfect Soldier:** What have you to trade, Isdes?

**Isdes:** I have been away from sources for quite some time and I am afraid I have little to offer. However, Laughing Man, you may want to look into the some interesting rumours about a certain project being done by the Kazakhstan government.

**Laughing Man:** What sort of project?

**Isdes:** It seems that their scientists are conducting tests on a subject caught in the wild. Fairly normal but something is off about the whole ordeal.

**Laughing Man:** I will look into it.

**Isdes:** Also, to Perfect Soldier, there may be a shift in ranks in KM's empire. My sources say that it is certain to happen. Have an eye out for the druglord's activities.

**Perfect Soldier:** Noted.

**Isdes:** I must leave now. I will not return for another five or so months. Is there anything of importance to discuss before I go?

**X:** I think not. Until then, Isdes.

**Isdes:** Till then.

**ISDES HAS LEFT THE ROOM. **

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

**ISDES HAS REQUESTED PERMISSION TO INITIATE DISCUSSION WINDOW. **

**X HAS GRANTED PERMISSION TO INITIATE DISCUSSION WINDOW. **

**X: **Truly a surprise for you to initiate a discussion window with me, Isdes.

**Isdes:** I had something to request of you that would seem out of place at our room.

**X:** Request it then.

**Isdes:** I want to know the names and details of organizations which research and specialize in odd happenings. Usually unexplainable happenings.

**X:** You have to be more specific.

**Isdes:** Witches, vampires, UFOs, ghosts, monsters, anything supernatural or abnormal.

**X:** What brought upon this new curiosity?

**Isdes:** Will you provide me with the information?

**X:** What will you trade me for it?

**Isdes:** What do you wish for in return?

**X:** Persistent, aren't you? Very well. I will do what I can, but I expect an equal trade for whatever I may find.

**Isdes:** And I will honour that exchange. We both have five months. Let us hope that the results will be satisfactory. Until then.

**ISDES HAS LEFT THE DISCUSSION WINDOW. **

**THE DISCUSSION WINDOW HAS BEEN TERMINATED. **

**Author's Notes: **I SUCK AT ROMANCE! (x10) And that is the real reason why this chapter took so long. No, I hadn't abandoned it. I just got stuck writing about Djemn and Tax. Scenario after scenario was shot out of my head by my QC and it took forever for me to get it done. Don't blame her. She's just doing it for the good of the fic. Anyways, I want to apologize for the long wait and also for the apparent pointlessness of this chapter. I know it seems completely unimportant and irrelevant to the main story, but I assure you, it will be _very significant_ in the future. Also, a reminder that there will be no ships in this story, as yours truly is truly no good at it.

Disclaimers: Lithium Flower is borrowed from Ghost in the Shell, Stand Alone Complex. The phrase where the Chavanson brothers say they are stunned by Djemn's beauty is borrowed and modified from Queen Elizabeth I. Some of the names in this chapter are mine and some are not. Those which are not were taken from _somewhere else_. For the readers who managed to guess which and from where, good for you. The information mentioned by Bombay, Laughing Man and Perfect Soldier is rightly owned by Wikipedia. I merely tinkered with it a little. Accuracy is not guaranteed by me.

Lastly, big, fat thank yous to those who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are great. To KRP, answering your questions would put me at risk of exposing the plot, so sorry. Thanks for all your encouragement though. I realize that many things are still not explained or clear enough yet and thus the reason I've put this story under the category of 'Suspense' now. Thank you all very much and I hope to hear from you next chapter. Have a nice day, everyone.


	18. 18: Shopping!

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 18 – Shopping! **

She carefully scrutinized the person standing in front of her. Waist length rich blonde hair, icy blue eyes shot with silver flecks, flawless porcelain skin, high aristocratic cheekbones, and lips that could produce the most irresistible pout. Perfect. Complete with a pitch black robe sewn with shimmering blue and silver embroideries, she was the epitome of the wealthy, pureblood witch.

Djemn moved her head to the side, watching her reflection carefully for any signs that may expose her state of concealment. There were none. True to Mr.Borgin's word, the mask attached itself to her face like a second skin, showing no lines or unnatural difference in facial tissue where the mask ended and her real skin began. There still remained the matter of the distinction between the two skin tones but a simple scarf covering her neck would solve that problem just fine. She raised a finger and ran it smoothly down her cheek. Touches still felt the same, as though there really wasn't anything between her finger and face. The purchase had been worth it then. When she had first bought the mask, Djemn didn't know if she would ever have need of it but time has proved yet again, that it was always better to be prepared than not. The finger tracing her cheek went to her neck and twirled a few strands of blonde hair in a loose loop around it. That had been the most fun part. Her mother had been simply delighted to hear that her daughter wanted an image makeover. Later, said daughter had to excruciatingly explain that she had _only_ wanted the hair _colour_ changed and not curled or some other horror. Of course, the dye was only temporary and would be completely washed off after a few days but it was still fascinating to look so different. Her father had looked at her with the most incredulous expression then walked off silently to sit out his shock by himself in his study. That had almost tempted Djemn to try impermanent red highlights in the blonde, just to see his reaction. Almost. But it would ruin the pureblood look and thus she had refrained.

Checking herself over once more, she carefully wrapped a dark blue scarf around her neck, obscuring the tan skin, took a pair of leather gloves from a drawer, and left her room. She and Hadrian were entering Diagon Alley today, or more specifically, Knockturn Alley. The equation for Phoenix Down had been completed and all she needed now was the ingredients. It would have been a simple trip, dropping into Diagon alley and going to the apothecary but sadly, due to the nature of the potion, most, if not all, of the ingredients could only be obtained from shops in Knockturn Alley. Why the need for disguise then? Simply because she couldn't waltz into the alley being who she was. There was no room there for muggle-borns. The first time couldn't have been helped, but she was not about to risk herself or Hadrian again. Plus, looking like a rich pureblood would give out the correct message and would no doubt make their excursion a little more convenient for them. Another reason was because of the ingredients. If Djemn believed herself right, at least one of the ingredients was illegal and others illegal if in large quantities. She certainly wouldn't want to be seen as herself buying illegal materials from a known shady area. What's more, with the Heir of Slytherin about, she was more than certain she didn't want to be seen anywhere near Knockturn Alley. Even if the general wizarding population was unaware of the happenings in Hogwarts, she was quite sure the news would have made its way to the alley. With the children out of school for the holiday, there was a chance the Heir might see her there, there was a chance Dumbledore's associates might see her there, and there was a chance a random person would remember her face. There were so many things involved and the risk of going there without a disguise was simply too high.

"Are you ready to leave, Miss Djemn?"

Djemn nodded her head at Hadrian and the two of them promptly went to the edges of the Helesande estate to hail the Knight Bus.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Diagon Alley wasn't much different in winter. People bustled about in a crazed frenzy, obviously still elevated by the Christmas holiday spirit. Shopkeepers were haggling prices to sell off their year-end stock and children were running about on the snow covered cobblestone street, kicking up clumps of frozen rain. The entire alley was decked in bright extravagant colours that made Djemn blink several times whenever her gaze moved too fast across the shop fronts. Even with the cover of snow, voices and noises still rang loud above the constant taps of footsteps. It made Djemn very uncomfortable to be in the midst of so many people. Maybe because she was new to magic during her first and second visit, she was suddenly very aware that walking casually among wizards could actually be very dangerous. Every witch or wizard was in possession of a wand, which, Djemn had quickly learned, was capable of executing incredibly harmful spells. The Killing Curse or even a simple but carefully aimed Cutting Hex could end one's life. And all it took was one or two words. It was all too easy to kill someone, especially in a crowded area. In Djemn's mind, it was as though every child, mother and grandfather was armed with a shotgun and had the capability to use it at a moment's notice. Of course, there were rules and ethical laws that prevented wizards from casual curse-flinging, but she was more than certain that many would precede over those rules if only for their own leisure. It made her glad that she had brought along her Glock and Rorrim bracelet.

A soft gust of wind blew at them and Djemn held her cloak closer to herself. She had taken a strong Warming Potion, pre-brewed at Hogwarts, before leaving the manor. Remembering how Hadrian had resisted at the mention of her going 'shopping' while snow was still falling, she was glad that her mother was already familiar with the potion and could vouch for her. Nevertheless, Cezelia had been less than pleased that her daughter was about to leave the safe zones of their home yet again. It was only after a fair amount of explanation and subtle pleading on Djemn's part that she relented. In this way, Djemn supposed it was good that she seldom had want of anything from her parents. It made it easier for her to attain something when she asked for it.

Hadrian led Djemn past the many shops and people milling about in the crowded streets. Knockturn Alley was a good way off the east of Diagon Alley and they would have to walk some distance to reach the entrance. When they passed by Madam Malkin's though, Djemn stopped abruptly and tugged on Hadrian's coat to halt his progress. He looked at her inquiringly while she merely stared at the shop in silence. A moment later, she was pulling him into the store.

"Hello there. May I help you?"

Madam Malkin was still the stout, pleasant witch Djemn remembered from when she was there earlier in June. She smiled politely at the middle aged woman and gestured at Hadrian, who in turn looked sharply at her when he heard what she had to say.

"I would like him to be fitted for three formal robes, two for warm seasons and one for winter wear, all black. And I would also like a formal dress robe for him, in a colour to his liking."

Djemn saw Madam Malkin frown ever so slightly at the two of them. Perhaps she remembered Hadrian from before – after all, they had taken quite some time in the shop during Djemn's purchase in the summer – and recalled that he had been with another child. Or perhaps she simply found it strange that Djemn was giving the order instead of Hadrian when she was obviously the younger of the two. She saw the madam dismiss it with a smile then lead them towards the fitting area next to a mirror.

"Very well. This way, sir."

Hadrian stayed silent throughout the entire fitting session. Once in a while, he would look in Djemn's direction with an odd stare, as though trying to understand why she would be doing this. Djemn waited till Madam Malkin went off to fetch cloths in different shades of blue for Hadrian's dress robe before she spoke.

"I realized that it was too blaringly noticeable if you continued to walk around in normal suits. Where we are heading, it is wise to not flaunt our status in wizarding society. Some wizards do not take kindly to non-magical people."

Hadrian pondered on this. "And the… dress robe. Is that necessary as well?"

Djemn smiled at him with a hint of teasing. "No. I doubt you will be attending wizarding parties with me, but it is better to be prepared. And I wanted to see to see you in one."

Right then, Madam Malkin returned, cutting off Hadrian's reply, whatever it was. She showed them four different shades of blue in two different types of material. In the end, Hadrian had chosen a bright navy blue made of thick cotton. The dress robe was to be made simple but stylish, as per Djemn's request. Once all the robes were done, Hadrian changed into the formal winter black robes and folded his prior clothes along with the rest of his new outfits to be shrunken by Madam Malkin. After paying the seamstress, they left the shop and proceeded to their actual destination.

A little more than an hour later, Djemn was near fuming with frustration. She made certain the heels of her boots ground into the stone floor of Knockturn Alley with satisfying clunks as she walked her way down the street with a purposeful and somewhat intimidating stride. With the tall and built form of Hadrian beside her, she was sure the two of them made a daunting picture to the residents of the alley.

'_The better.'_ Thought Djemn irately. _'I have no more patience for incompetent fools who have the gall to claim themselves Dark Art specialists when they cannot even provide me with simple ingredients!'_

Her foul mood was understandable. She had spent the last hour combing the alley for her much needed ingredients and none of the shopkeepers had been able to accommodate her. They would either flat out tell her that they hadn't the material then hurriedly excuse themselves or pretend to have it then try to steer her interest elsewhere. It was exasperating. Especially since she had to repeat the same lines over and over again to each new shopkeeper who would, in the end, supply her with nothing but a higher blood pressure. Another reason for her elevating anger was the fact that they were wasting her time. The Warming Potion she had taken was only due to last three to four hours and already two hours have passed. Worse come to worse, she would have to leave and try again tomorrow, but it was not in her nature to do so.

Striding towards hopefully the last shop she would have to visit, Djemn resolved to use an appropriate amount of force in order to achieve her goals for the day. Subtlety be damned. It was not going to get her anywhere at this stage. What she didn't expect though, as she pushed open the door to Borgin and Burkes, was that she would recognize someone within the shop.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Lucius fought the urge to sneer distastefully at the man who was currently hunching over his list of Dark Artifacts for sale. He was more than certain Borgin was mentally evaluating each and every item to estimate the lowest price he could ask for them. The man was a slimy, low-life trader in Knockturn and he would put up any sort of fake front for a potential customer, but if Lucius wanted to be rid of those items, he knew that Borgin was the only person who'd consent to a transaction. The others were too afraid of what might become of them if they were caught with such, ah, exotic, pieces at hand. Cowards, the bunch of them. Which led him back to his primary dilemma and source of displeasure.

Roughly ten days ago, the Ministry of Magic had raided his manor. _His _manor. Lucius's eyes narrowed dangerously as he recalled how the Aurors had stormed in without notice and proceeded to search Malfoy Manor, he quote, "with or without Mr.Malfoy's approval". After they'd left, Narcissa had thrown a right fit. Fortunately, the trice-damned Aurors had found very little that could be counted as incriminating. Sure, they lost a few nice, cursed accessories around the manor, but those were nothing if compared in value to the ones hidden. Lucius thanked his great-grandfather for having enough foresight to build the underground cellar below the drawing room. Nevertheless, the incident had provoked sufficient caution and he was taking steps to prevent inextricable damage from being done unto him should the worst happen. Thus, why he was there, in Borgin and Burkes, selling Dark Artifacts yet again. The current items were much more _valuable_ compared to the ones he had sold in the summer. Some of them had enough Dark magic residue to put out half a dozen people at one time if used correctly. Others were simply precarious in the way that there was no telling when the object would decide to, shall we say, self-destruct, with its owner.

Lucius smirked when he remembered such another artifact which he had 'deposited' earlier in the year. Arthur Weasley will soon regret the day he became a muggle-loving fool. The man was a constant annoyance to him in the ministry. Him and his Muggle Protection Acts. There was no doubt now that all the extra, not to mention, bold, raids being conducted by the ministry had something to do with his ridiculous newest act. Protecting muggles. It was preposterous! The mudbloods should just stay where they were supposed to stay, in their little mudblood world and away from proper wizards. Let the Aurors obliviate them if they should come to know of magic, but there was no need to protect them. Only deranged imbeciles like Weasley would even _think_ of associating with them. It was because of wizards like him, blood purity was slowly being dismissed as unimportant. The utter disgrace.

But no more. The smirk on Lucius's face turned sinister. Draco had written him and it seems that everything was going as planned. The Chamber was opened once again and _this time_, the purging will be completed. Because _this time_, the senile old headmaster had no one to suspect. It was really an ingenious plan, two snidgets with one stone. Not only will the filth be flushed out of Hogwarts, it will be done by no other than Weasley's own child, a pureblood. Oh, it was simply delightful. By the end of the school year, Ginerva Weasley would be found out as the culprit and then her shameful family will face the consequences. After that, it's farewell Weasley at work. He would have ruined the man. The biggest drawback was that he would have to sacrifice the precious diary the Dark Lord had given him. But in reality, he knew it was the only item which would enable his plan to work. Even the densest wizard would be able to tell that the diary was heavily infused with the Dark Lord's magic. Lucius had hoped that it would be enough to manipulate the youngest Weasley and open the Chamber of Secrets. Evidently, his anticipations haven't been futile. And what's more, if the current events continued without obstruction, he might just be rid of one more person who's been an eyesore to him for far too long. Certainly. One or two more attacks, and he was sure he would be able to 'persuade' the other school governors to 'temporarily remove' the headmaster. Though, if Lucius had anything to say about it, the removal will be anything but temporary.

The door creaked open behind him, indicating that another customer had entered the shop. Lucius paid it no heed and continued to sneer down at Borgin. How long was the man going to take? Surely the list wasn't that long and he should have been done by now. Or was he too inept to understand some of the more complex names of objects? Lucius shifted slightly to express his impatience but only managed to get Borgin to glance up as another person stepped beside the Malfoy patriarch at the counter.

"May I help you?" asked Borgin in his customary oily voice, although, Lucius did notice that it was laced with skepticism. He looked out of the corner of his eye and was rather taken by surprise when he found himself standing next to a girl who looked no older than ten years of age.

'_A child!_ What was a _child_ doing in Knockturn Alley?'

Bluntly, in a cold voice that should not have belonged to her, the girl said to Borgin, "I wish to purchase unicorn blood."

It was as if time froze for a split second as both men comprehended the profundity in her request. Unicorn blood was not something one could simply walk up to a counter and ask for. It was illegal to harm or kill unicorns and taking their blood is, of course, prohibited, even if said blood had highly magical properties. The only part of the beast which wizards were allowed to remove was their hair. Horns were collected after the unicorn's death. Over the years, poachers and smugglers have managed to obtain some amount of the creatures' blood but it was never sold over the counter, always hand to hand in quick, one time only deals. For the girl to be so bold as to ask so directly……

Lucius carefully scrutinized the girl. Long blonde hair, pale skin, expensive robes, and a posture that said she thought herself superior to others. Characteristics of a pureblood child. But looks could be deceiving. He expanded his gaze and saw an older man standing behind the girl. Unlike her, he wasn't wearing costly garments but a simple black formal winter robe. Lucius concluded that the two couldn't have been closely related as there was too much of a difference in facial structure and skin tone. Then, in a short flash of recollection, he thought the older man looked very vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had seen him at one of his parties? No, he should have remembered then. A ministry worker? Not likely. There were too many possibilities to ponder. Lucius returned his eyes to the young girl.

Besides its magical potential in potions, there was also the matter of the life-sustaining power of unicorn blood. Lucius still remembered last year when the Dark Lord used Quirrell as a means to gain access to that blood. It was a sin, they say, to slay and drink from a creature so pure. Rubbish to a person who wanted to live. There were those who would not die for anything in the world, and as Lucius studied the girl beside him, he wondered if she was one of those people. The idea seemed quite ludicrous as she was barely into her adolescent years. Was there another reason why she wanted it then? The use of unicorn blood in potions was very rare and he hardly thought she was going to sell it to someone else. Whatever the intention, Lucius doubted it honourable.

"U-unicorn blood? I'm afraid I don't trade – er, have such an item in my inventory." stuttered Borgin.

The girl's eyes narrowed. Lucius noted that a distinctly displeased expression formed on her face. She lifted her head just an inch higher in what he would consider a blatant display of arrogance.

"Perhaps you should verify that. You may have had a lapse in memory."

Borgin's face turned a light shade of red at the girl's insolence, but he carefully held himself in check when he answered. "No, I am quite sure that we do not sell that item. Perhaps I may interest you in something else?"

The girl said nothing for a moment. Then, in a soft but yet unfeeling voice, she said, "I see."

She turned from the counter and began to walk quite leisurely to the door. Borgin looked relieved to have her leave, but alas, she stopped halfway there to examine a pair of poisonous hair ornaments in one of the glass displays.

"I do hope the ministry will not visit your shop, Mr.Borgin. I hear they are simply full of life these past few months. Of course, they have no reason to come to Knockturn Alley…… Unless one gives them reason… Good day to you, Mr.Borgin"

After her casual little comment, the girl left the display and walked straight to the door in decisive steps. Borgin fumbled for a moment before leaning over the counter to call out to her.

"Wait!"

By then, the girl had already pulled the door open but had yet to step out into the alleyway. She released the handle and the door slipped shut as she did a precise pivot to face them again. Lucius saw Borgin clench his jaw for a moment before coming to a decision.

"Perhaps I should check if we have some. Please wait a moment."

Borgin disappeared to the back of the shop as the girl came to stand at the counter. Lucius mentally sneered at the retreating figure. Played like a fool. His eyes came to rest on the girl beside him. This here was a child he could appreciate. So young yet already so proficient at the art. Demand, and if that doesn't work, threaten. A very simple procedure. She knew exactly what to say to obtain what she wanted. And Borgin was just that big a fool to be scared by her ploys. The man was too afraid she would actually tip off the ministry that he would rather give in to her demands.

Borgin returned moments later with a dusty grey jar in his hands. He set it on the table with a grimace and looked towards the girl who cautiously pulled it closer to her. Then, she unclasped the dust covered lid and lifted the jar. Both Lucius and Borgin held their breath when she seemingly raised it to her lips, but she paused and merely sniffed at the silver liquid. Presumably satisfied, she lowered the jar and resealed it.

"Is this all you have?"

Borgin snapped out of his daze and stammered out an answer. "I — I, er, have a few more, er, jars in the back."

"I want them all. Also, three pints of phoenix tears and two pounds of phoenix feathers."

Borgin stood with his eyes and mouth frozen open at the additional order. Lucius wouldn't fault him for being shocked speechless. First unicorn blood, now phoenix tears and phoenix feathers? What in the name of Merlin was the child up to? Attempting some sort of potion or ritual? He could not recall a ritual needing such requirements and certainly not a potion which needed such ingredients.

"I am waiting Mr.Borgin."

Once again snapping out of a daze, Borgin hurriedly disappeared from behind the counter to his stores. Lucius sneaked a look over to the girl. She had her hands resting on the counter, each on either side of the jar of unicorn blood. He inspected the black leather gloves on her small hands for a moment, instinctively pondering on which pureblood family she belonged to. He couldn't recall a family having sired a similar child in the past decade and he undoubtedly had not seen her at any of his formal soirees in the past. She was young, blonde and, from what he could see, pretty. It was impossible for him to not have known about her if she was from a respectable pureblood line. Unless,… There was that possibility that she was from a respectable line but was an unrespectable child. A bastard child, or simply the result of an unfortunate or unwanted incident. Inbreeding was not uncommon among purebloods but there were those who object to a union between closely related members of a family. Perhaps the girl was simply not acknowledged by her kin. If she was indeed the result of an objectionable union, her mere existence would have tarnished the family standing and image. Said family would have wanted to conceal her from public and the circumstances of her birth would also, no doubt, be hidden. Lucius tried to look for clues as to the identity of her family but could find none on her or the man behind her.

When Borgin returned, a black, medium sized sack and several jars were floating behind him. He took his place at the counter and directed the items to land gently on the countertop. The girl then reached for one of the jars containing phoenix tears, opened it and removed her gloves. Then, she bent down and pulled out a slender knife from her boot. Lucius watched on with deep interest when she quickly and stoically slashed the knife across her left index finger, producing a small but deep cut. Blood immediately began to ooze out of the wound and dribble down her finger to her palm. Calmly, without even a change in expression or a backwards glance, she passed the knife over to the man standing behind her and dipped her right index finger into the jar of phoenix tears. She then rubbed the liquid over the cut, observing silently as it swiftly closed and healed without a scratch. Using a handkerchief, she wiped the excess blood from her hand and accepted the knife back from the man behind her. The cleaned knife was sheathed and something else was taken out of her robe. It was a small, narrow black cylinder with silver edges. One end was slightly more raised than the other. Lucius's eyebrow twitched in surprise when the girl pressed on the raised end and the silver portion slipped sideways to reveal a green flame of fire. He tried not to feel discomforted by the mysterious object and the emerald blaze which reminded him all too much of the sickly colour of the Killing Curse. The girl then reached for one of the phoenix feathers in the black sack and brought it to meet the flame. The fire licked at it but did not set it alight. Satisfied, she closed the cylinder with a soft snap and set the still glistening feather back into the sack.

"These are satisfactory. However, before I conclude my business here, I have one more request."

At this, Borgin looked weary and Lucius understood all too well why. The girl was depleting him of his 'special' stock. And it need not be said that it was inadvisable to trade in such large quantities at one time. This little exchange would probably look very bad if anyone were to hear of it. People might start to take Borgin and Burkes for granted. It was simply bad for business.

"I require the essence of Yggdrasil."

This time, Lucius really did turn his head clear to the side to look at the girl and Borgin actually stumbled backwards.

"I don't have any!" exclaimed Borgin with wide eyes.

And Lucius would certainly think so. The essence of Yggdrasil was nearly as difficult to obtain as… well, it was simply difficult to obtain as it was so unique. There's only one place in the world where it can be found; in Sweden, Scandinavia. There, there was a temple at Uppsala, built in the eleventh century, where an old oak was said to be evergreen even when in winter. Legend has it that a great wizard made the tree by giving life to it when it was on the verge of withering and his wife, an equally powerful witch, watered it with obscure potions everyday until the day the couple died. Since then, a guardian had watched over the tree, obstructing any who wished to take from it. And it was this oak which provided the light, water-like elixir of Yggdrasil. Only when during the first week of spring can the essence be harvested. One would have to bring a pure grey horse to be bathed in the water of the well by the sacred tree, then slay it with an axe dyed in blue paint processed from lapis lazuli, and smear the blood, which had yet to reach the ground, across the bark of the oak. If the tree guardian deemed the harvester worthy, it will allow him to salvage only two full vials of essence. Any more and the harvester could lose a limb for being insolent. It was a long and taxing process, with people often being dismissed by the guardian. That being that, there was no need to state the absolute rarity of coming across a merchant who would truly possess genuine essence of Yggdrasil. Not to mention, the ridiculously high price of such an item. But then why would anyone want it if it was so hard to find and so expensive to buy? The answer lay in its use. Yggdrasil essence acts in the same way as unicorn blood, able to sustain a person's life even when that person was on the brink of death. The only difference was that it wouldn't have come from a live creature. Some wizards preferred this method even though a mundane animal had been sacrificed along the way. It put their minds at ease knowing that a _magical_ animal that not been killed for their survival. Very hypocritical thinking but it serves little purpose as the essence was simply too difficult to acquire.

Lucius looked hard at the girl, trying to piece together her puzzle. Unicorn blood and essence of Yggdrasil, both of which held life-sustaining qualities; Phoenix tears healed any wounds and phoenix feathers were powerful cores for magical channeling. Separated, they were already impressive enough. Together, there was no telling what could ensue. Lucius felt a rare flow of adrenaline. _Just what in the world was the girl trying to accomplish?_

"I had my suspicions you would say that. As such, I would like to pre-order two vials of essence of Yggdrasil. You have until the month of June. I'm sure you can procure the item in question by then. Payment will be made during the exchange. If there is nothing else, kindly shrink my purchases so that we may be on our way."

Borgin silently opened and closed his mouth a few times at the girl's painfully direct and confident way of demanding exactly what she wanted. Lucius was almost amused. It was very obvious that she was a spoilt child. Closing his mouth with a sour expression, Borgin began to wrap up and shrink the items on the countertop. After the total sum of the purchase was ringed up though, his face brightened considerably.

"It would be 5135 galleons. No refunds."

Lucius carefully observed the girl's face after hearing the price. It was a rather hefty sum, even to himself. A spoilt child was a spoilt child, but he thought that even she could understand when the cost became too high. Sadly, he was proven very wrong when said girl merely glanced backwards to man standing behind her as she adorned her gloves and he wordlessly extended a golden card to Borgin, who accepted it with much glee. Lucius _had_ to raise an eyebrow at this. He recognized the card as a Gringotts option for their wealthy, pardon, _very_ wealthy patrons and the sheer casual way it had been tossed to the shopkeeper made an even louder statement about the girl's family's state of wealth. He himself had such a card but it was only ever used when he knew that he would be making a large purchase of something costly, which was seldom. He certainly wouldn't stand for it if Draco came to him with a bill for _five thousand galleons_!

Borgin muttered the correct amount again and tapped the card with his wand. It glowed bright golden for a moment then regained its former condition.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Miss … " said Borgin as he handed the card back to the silent man.

The girl ignored the subtle questioning of her name and simply nodded civilly. "Yes, a pleasure I'm sure. Good day, Mr.Borgin."

The man moved forward to take the shrunken items on the counter then followed the girl as she turned to leave. Lucius watched them go with a critical eye. A card with seemingly unlimited amount of gold and a man servant to do her bidding. For a bastard or an unacknowledged child, her family was good to her. Lucius could just feel his curiosity worming around under his caution. It was her standoffish attitude despite her age, her unflinching tolerance of self-inflicted wounds and her mysterious demands for bizarre materials which interested him the most. Pity that he could not follow her to see what else she may be buying in Knockturn. But he had his objectives for the day and, as distracted as he was by her appearance, he intended to see them through. Nevertheless, he _would_ find out about her. The Malfoy family was powerful. It was only a matter of time. With that thought, he turned back to the stooping shopkeeper and put on his best intimidating glare to hasten the transaction of Dark Artifacts.

However, the footsteps stopped halfway to the door.

"Mr.Borgin, do you have any recommendations on books concerning werewolves?"

'_Werewolves?' _

Lucius was somewhat annoyed at the second interruption to his business in the shop but couldn't quite keep an ear off the strange request regarding the contagious half-breeds. What dealings did she have with those known dark creatures?

"Werewolves, you say? Well, I have some that might interest you. Perhaps you'd like to take a look?" said Borgin eagerly, no doubt hoping for another chance to reap some profit off the small girl.

There was a short pause as the girl considered. "No, that will not be necessary. What do you know of the _Book of the Moon_?"

"_Book of the Moon_? Err… It was banned from publication and distribution some five hundred years ago in the, uh, fifteenth century. It hasn't been seen since. Some people think its existence was simply made-up by some crack-pot werewolf-worshipping witch, and that there was no such book in the first place."

"What do _you_ think, Mr.Borgin?"

The shopkeeper stammered at the unexpected question. "Me? I, uh, I mean it's likely that the book, err, exists but then again I've never seen or heard of anyone having—"

"I wish to pre-order the _Book of the Moon_. I will retrieve it along with the essence in June. May your business flourish as always. Good day, Mr.Borgin."

Then the girl turned and left without another word, leaving Borgin gobsmacked and speechless. Lucius glared at him and he hastily returned to the list of Dark Artifacts, not wanting the Malfoy patriarch to wait any longer than he already had, lest he incurred his wrath. While Borgin examined the list once more, Lucius carefully reflected on what he had just heard. So the girl was interested in werewolves? And not just any simple curiosity if she was looking for the _Book of the Moon_. Lucius didn't know much about the book but he did know that it was Dark material and that it was banned for an undisclosed reason. Enough to intrigue those who were affiliated with the half-breeds. Borgin would most likely have to deal with _them_ if he wanted to acquire the book. And he could just see that the slippery man himself knew this and was disturbed by it.

'_Well, we all sacrifice something in the name of profit. Unfortunately for Borgin,'_ Lucius thought with a sneer, _'he doesn't have what it takes to decline.'_

Five minutes later and they were finally done with the list. Lucius sharply told Borgin to be at the manor tomorrow to finalize their deal and left with a swirl of his cloak, glad to be out of the dusty little shop at last. The winter air brushed against his pale face as he let the door close behind him. He stood there a moment, scrutinizing the dark and chilly alley. The Christmas spirit which seemed to possess just about everyone in Diagon Alley had not managed to clamp its claws onto Knockturn. No silly decorations were hung up and certainly no witch or wizard in sight was wearing anything gaudily colourful. The alley retained its dark and mysterious atmosphere even when there's pristine snow scattered about the walkways. Lucius looked some distance to his left and saw four wizards carrying a large crate, trying to get it past a shop entrance. All over the wooden crate were stamped words of 'Dangerous', 'Do Not Shake Or Drop' and 'Handle With Care'. To his front and right, along the alleyway, were set-up stalls of various oddities. Looking further down, he raised an eyebrow when he spotted the girl and her silent servant standing by a stall, seemingly inspecting the merchandise. Coming to a decision, he was about to make his way over to them when a loud crash and sounds of splitting wood were heard. Turning his head towards the source of the sounds, his eyes widened slightly when he saw that the four imbeciles had decided to not heed the warnings all over the crate and that said crate was now mere splinters of wood on the stone ground. In the centre of it all stood an erumpent, sharp horn raised in all its glory and nostrils flaring, causing small puffs of mist to form in front of its face. Its rope-like tail slapped the ground in a whipping action, producing a loud crack before it charged with a mad, grunting cry, straight down the alley and towards Lucius.

Lucius thought quickly. Erumpents only charge when provoked and usually caused mass destruction in their path. Their hide was thick and repelled most charms and curses. Their horns can pierce anything and contained an exploding liquid. Simply wonderful. How was he supposed to stop the blasted thing if it can't be cursed? Or perhaps he didn't need to. Watching the erumpent come closer still, he noticed that it was plainly charging straight ahead and not stopping to desecrate things on the sides. If he just stayed close to the small alcove front of Borgin and Burkes, it might just pass him by harmlessly. And he thought right as the erumpent rushed past him without so much as a glance. Relieved and cursing the incompetence of some wizards, Lucius abruptly paused when he remembered exactly what he had been intending to do before the erumpent so rudely decided to have a one-beast stampede.

Snapping his head to the side, he watched as the girl and man turned towards the raging animal, having heard the charge towards them. The man's eyes narrowed and he reached into his robe, presumably for his wand.

'_It's no use, the erumpent hide will repel it.'_ thought Lucius. He quickly analyzed their situation. They were surrounded by walls on both sides and were standing in front of the stall in the middle of the alleyway. The erumpent will ram straight into them if it continued to move in that direction and if their first spell was reflected, there's little chance of them using a second one before the erumpent reached them.

The old witch behind the stall screeched shrilly and ran off, leaving the two to fend for themselves. Lucius's eyes wandered over to their faces and he noted with perturbed interest that the girl still seemed as cool as ever, bored even. It made one suspect that she faced rampant beasts on a daily occasion, or something equally dangerous if her expression was anything to go by. Then, as sudden as lightning, creativity struck.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves tightly around the erumpents's four legs, causing it to fall to the ground with a loud grunt. At that moment, however improbable physics was in the wizarding world, the law of inertia prevailed yet. With the bulk of the erumpent and the speed that it was going at, even while bound, it skidded forward on its side, coming to a slow halt not five feet away from the duo. Once the beast stopped its forward motion, it started to moan softly, attempting to release itself from the tight ropes which bound its legs. Lucius replaced his wand and calmly walked over to the man, who had placed himself in front of the girl the moment he saw the beast fall and start skidding towards them.

"Are you uninjured?" asked Lucius. It was more of a practiced civil habit than actual concern that he asked.

The man regarded him for a moment then gave a curt nod before moving to the side so that he was no longer standing in front of the girl. Lucius took in her appearance from the front this time. Out in the light, she looked even fairer than she did inside the store. Cold blue eyes flecked with silver stared back at him as they each judged the other.

"I thank you for your assistance, sir." said the girl in a voice that was perhaps a notch warmer than the one she had used with Borgin earlier.

"You are welcome. Erumpents can cause quite the disaster even in an unpopulated area. Wizards should know better than to handle them with little care." replied Lucius as he frowned in the direction of the four wizards who had come to reclaim the beast. They hastily cast several effective charms onto the animal before dispelling the constraining spell Lucius had cast. One of them muttered a hurried apology and thanks before helping his co-workers carry the unconscious erumpent away.

"Indeed." said the girl absently as she too stared off after the creature.

"Forgive me. I had yet to introduce myself. My name is Lucius Malfoy." said Lucius, inclining his head politely and hoping that he would at least catch a name to go with his future investigations.

The girl gave him an equally polite smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Malfoy. And I thank you again for helping us. But the hour is late and I must return. Good day to you, Mr.Malfoy." said the girl and she began to turn away. But Lucius was not that easily deterred.

"Will you leave me no name to remember you by?" he enquired gently.

The girl paused and turned back to face him. This time, Lucius thought that there was a trace of amusement to her smile.

"My name is foreign to you, Mr.Malfoy. You will not find it amongst the British purebloods. But if I must, then I shall leave you the name Bijou. That is what I am called."

Lucius stared at her, face blank. He had been hoping for a family name. Without it, there was little use for a first name as there was nothing to match it to. At the very least, she had told him that she wasn't British. But that only narrowed down his search to, perhaps, the whole of Europe excluding the British Isles? Then, there was the possibility that she might not be European at all…

"Many things lie hidden in the future, Mr.Malfoy. We will meet again. Of that, have no doubt. Merry Christmas."

Then, for one quick moment, Lucius thought he saw her smile evolve into something much more vindictive before she turned and left. Her servant made to follow but his gaze lingered on Lucius for just a while longer before he too departed without another word. Lucius watched them go silently, the man walking close to the girl as though shielding her but never once overstepping her. Soon, they made it to the entrance of the alley and disappeared into the crowds of Diagon.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

'_I don't know what came over me. Why did I choose to stay? I knew I was only going to be miserable here. Then, why? What's the matter with me?' _

Ginny rested her head on her knees as she stared out the window of her dormitory. She was alone in the dark room; Hermione had been affected by some spell of some sort, according to Ron, and had to stay in the hospital wing for some time. Without her, Ginny was the only Gryffindor girl left staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. And as time went by with her simply by herself, she was growing more and more confused as to why.

'_Why didn't I just agree to go visit Bill with mum and dad? I'm sure it would have been much better than staying here with no one to talk to. And then, I wouldn't have had to think about… about…' _

Ginny viciously shook her head to clear away those thoughts. It wasn't her fault! She had nothing to do with it! It was just coincidence. Yes, coincidence that she couldn't remember what she did during those times the attacks happened. It didn't mean anything. She was probably asleep or something equally as mundane as that.

'_But… But what if… No!' _

The redhead held herself closer as she buried her face into her jeans. She didn't want to think about anything anymore. It was all a blur to her. Hogwarts was supposed to be exciting and marvelous like all her brothers have told her but it only sounded like a dream now. Ever since she started school, she's been feeling off and lonely. She didn't get as many friends as she would've liked and classes have only made her feel tired. At the beginning, there was a little consolation; the diary her father had gotten for her.

Ginny turned her head sideways to look to her nightstand. In the first drawer, resting under her letters from home was the thin black book. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would have been like if Tom hadn't been there to encourage her and cheer her on. He was her private confidant, her shoulder to mope on when she was feeling the worst of misery. He was the sweetest, most patient and caring person she ever knew. It felt as though nothing could trouble her when he was there. But something did trouble her.

'_Why can't I remember? Why? Why? Why do I feel tired all the time? Why is Tom saying weird things now?' _

She didn't want to, but Ginny had started to think twice about everything Tom said. Most times, he was still kind, supportive Tom, but other times, he made strange statements that seemed to stay with Ginny. Like the few occasions where he seemed to think that she should simply stay away from her housemates as they were 'people who don't deserve you or anything else for that matter'. Lately, he seemed to show a darker side to his personality. Sometimes, he would persuade her to do silly things and Ginny hadn't the heart to refuse, after all he'd done for her. Besides, merely following a student was harmless, right?

Ginny let out a sigh. She didn't even know why Tom had asked her to do that. Djemn Helesande was, by all means, the most boring student in Hogwarts. In her opinion, the only thing interesting about Helesande was the two white streaks in her hair. She could honestly say that, had she known the girl prior to her sorting, she would have been surprised when Helesande hadn't been sorted a Ravenclaw. The only thing she ever did, besides eat at mealtimes, was study! The girl had even been advanced a year after only a week in school. Only someone as bookish as a Ravenclaw would have been able to pull that off. Ginny had gathered as much information about her as she can but there was little to know about. Helesande was muggle-born, rich, smart, and generally a loner. She had few friends but was a great flyer. Many people didn't care about her and some only knew her for being 'the girl who skipped a year' or 'the girl who survived the monster of Slytherin'. Ginny only knew as much as she did because Ron, Harry and Hermione occasionally spoke to Helesande. Besides that, she was as clueless as everyone else. The only reason Tom would have an interest in her would be because she was the only person to come back conscious after being missing for days. But why would he? Ginny could understand simple curiosity but to go so far as to ask her to follow Helesande? It didn't make sense. And it didn't help that Tom wouldn't explain why.

'_It's all too strange. I don't know what to think anymore!' _

The sun set outside the window, casting soft orange glows into the room. Ginny turned her face away from the glass, her eyes once again resting automatically on the muggle diary. With an explosive but determined sigh, she got up from the window seat and went over to her bed, pulling the thin book out and picking up a quill. She dipped the worn out quill into the inkwell on her nightstand and began to write.

"Dear Tom, I'm all alone now with Hermione in the hospital wing. My brothers, Fred and George, are off setting up bobby-traps for the returning students and Ron and Harry are probably visiting Hermione. Percy's most likely patrolling the halls like a good prefect. No one seems to care about what I do. They all have their own lives and friends."

A moment later, her black scrawls disappeared and Tom wrote back. "Most people are like that, Ginny. You don't have to bother about them. You have me, remember?"

"Yes. I have you, Tom, and I hope you'll stay as my friend. I really need someone who's honest with me. I know I can trust you, right?"

"Of course you can trust me, Ginny. Who am I going to tell?"

"Then, can I ask you again why you wanted me to follow Djemn Helesande?"

"Ginny, we've been through this. I was just curious about how a muggle-born survived the monster. You told me yourself that it hadn't even been seen, let alone stopped. I merely wanted to know if she had anything to do with it. You wouldn't want your friends or your brothers to be hurt, would you?"

"No! Of course not! But like I said, she's really just a normal and boring student. There's nothing special about her."

"Ah, but she survived, did she not? When all others have been petrified? Believe me, Ginny. I only want what's best for you."

"Maybe she was just lucky."

"I don't think that's the case, Ginny. From what you've told me, it seems she's hiding something. Why else would she stay away from everyone else? It's not normal. Plus, I don't think this Slytherin monster is something one can escape from just by being 'lucky'."

"Maybe she had nothing to do with it!"

"Just follow her, Ginny."

Ginny suddenly felt uncomfortable talking to Tom. Scribbling a hasty goodbye, she closed the diary and locked it away in her drawer. Then, she drew herself fully onto the bed and lay curled in a ball. Tom had never spoken so commandingly with her before. Perhaps he had gotten angry with her? Tired of her? Maybe she should just listen to him. There was no harm done by doing as he said and she really didn't want to lose her friend, even if he had started to sound weird.

Closing her eyes, Ginny tried to forget all the things plaguing her mind and sleep away her troubles. She would do as Tom asked. He was her friend. He only wanted what's best for her. He would never hurt her…… Right?

**Author's Notes:** YATTA!!! I feel like I won a race or something. I know, I know. It's damn late considering my other chapters but then again, I work well under pressure and right now, since I've graduated, there's no pressure (hints). In this chappie, I feel that I didn't do as well as I could have with Lucius and Ginny. I don't know, I couldn't portray them very well. So feel free to comment. Please leave a review so that I may be able to judge my own work. On another note, I'll be leaving the state for a week after this, so expect the next chapter to take some time too (been happening a lot lately, hasn't it?).

Information on_ snidgets_ and _erumpents_ can be found in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. For those without FBaWtFT, the snidget is a bird which looks like a snitch, hence the similarity of the names, and an erumpent looks very much like a rhinoceros except for its tail which is rope-like.

**XTakaX27**: You flatter me. Thank you very, very much. **KRP**: Thank you again for your great comments and encouragement. Djemn would probably be returning to Hogwarts after the next chapter. As for the names to look at, check the Chavanson brothers and all the people in the chatroom. Also, the name Djemn gave in this chapter. **Nosferatum**: Wow, whatever gave you that impression? I never thought I made her sound like a vampire but thanks for your comment. **yelloKiD**: Finally. XD Thanks for your review, though hearing that this fic resembles my essays from school always makes me second guess myself. Glad to know you've cracked the code.

See ya next time, everyone. Have a nice day!


	19. Interlude: The Daughter

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Interlude – The Daughter. **

BEEP-beep-BEEP-beep-BEEP-be…

_Such a hateful noise. Cutting through these silent halls as though cruelly reminding me of my sorrow. Of that which I cannot reach. Cannot have. _

Cezelia stared emotionlessly through the glass of the observation panel. There, so out of her reach, a single child, a babe looking no older than the day she was born, lay unmoving. She rested in a case of glass surrounded by various machines, each humming and beeping rhythmically with each breath the child took. Wires of all colours and lengths were attached to her frail little body. On her arms, her chest, her head. It was like a labyrinth of chains, tying her to that godforsaken box.

Cezelia raised a hand and placed it gently onto the glass separating her and her babe. Her Djemn. She would not cry, for her tears have all but dried. Her heart was too tired to feel anymore pain. Her body too weak to do anything but watch her daughter lie in that glass case, day by day.

_I cannot bring myself to stop wishing for all of this to be just another horrible nightmare. I want to wake up and have someone tell me that it was only a dream. I want to take her away from here. From those awful machines and all the doctors. I want to hold her in my arms like any other mother. I want… _

A wave of old grief assaulted Cezelia and she felt the tears gather at her eyes. But she fought them. She would not let them fall any longer. For months she had cried, letting none near her save her husband. And for all that she had not changed anything. Her daughter was still confined away from her, unconscious to the world. It made no difference if she wailed to the skies or sat as cold as stone.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, Djemn. After tomorrow, you'll be one year old. So fast, yet it feels as though a decade has passed since I first heard you cry. What I wouldn't give to hear it again. Even if it's the last time. Even if I have to lose you forever after that. Just once, I'd like for you… to…"

Hot, heavy, liquid pearls of pain and love fell from Cezelia's eyes. She didn't wipe at them. She didn't care. Her whispered words drifted off into absent ears of the silent corridors. A hand came to rest gently on her shoulder. She turned and buried her face into the chest behind her. She knew that touch, and it was her only solace that the owner of that hand felt as much sorrow as she did.

_It's not supposed to be this way! No… It never should have been… _

Cezelia's shoulders shook as she sobbed softly into her husband's coat. Strong arms came to embrace her close to him. She knew it was selfish of her to do this. For her to depend so much on him when they were both hurting so. But the pain of it all.

"I d-don't even know the co-colour of her eyes…"

She knew that Jean-Roy was holding in his emotions, pushing himself aside for her sake. His rigid posture said it all. He thought she didn't know. But she did. All those nights she laid awake, unable to sleep, she had known. On those particularly silent nights, he would move from her side into the sitting room where he would sit in front of the fireplace till it was time for him to leave for work. Cezelia never told him that during those nights, she had always been there to hear him grief. The sounds that she heard then were not those that a grown man would admit to making.

"Cezelia."

Cezelia quieted her sobs. She relaxed her grip on her husbands coat and tilted her head up to see his face. Jean-Roy's eyes were glazed over as thought he was not really there, but they were not directed at her or their daughter.

"I have made a decision."

She waited for him to say more but he suddenly pulled her closer to him and held her tightly. Her confusion grew as she rested her head against his shoulder and felt him bury his face into her hair.

"I… I have decided… to let Djemn rest."

It took a few moments for the full implications of what her husband said to sink in. And when it finally did, Cezelia found that she had lost all her strength. Her arms felt limp and weak around Jean-Roy and her hands lost their grip on the fabric of his coat. Horror flooded her mind.

_To rest— He wants to put her to rest… Forever… He's going to— he's going to…!! _

"No! You can't! Jean-Roy! You can't do this! Djemn! She's—…"

Cezelia's hysterical voice was suddenly cut off by loud beeps, like sirens, going off in the room behind the observation panel. Her head whipped around to watch in terror as men and women all dressed in white lab coats rushed into the room. They immediately started to read the machines and move equipment towards the small glass case where her daughter was sleeping. It didn't take long before they began to speak in hurried, alarmed voices, though many of their words were too vague to be distinguished from outside. Cezelia's hands automatically found her husband again but didn't turn to face him. She was too afraid of what might happen if she looked away from her daughter for even a moment.

"— blood pressure decreasing— no response— heart rate— can't use—"

Heart-stopping moments passed as the doctors did various things to her daughter. At least two types of liquid substances were injected into her small body and strange breathing contraptions were attached to her mouth. Every once in a while, one doctor would say something to another and she or he would rush to retrieve some object or other. After minutes of no apparent effect, the doctors were visibly starting to look more frantic. Only one, the head doctor, remained calmly composed among his colleagues. When one machine suddenly went off in a shrill buzz, he stopped everything he was doing and looked up. Out of the room, through the glass, and directly at Jean-Roy.

Cezelia felt like someone had slapped her across the face. With wide eyes, she turned towards her husband, asking, pleading. He looked at her with eyes that held so many hidden emotions, she wasn't sure if he was more affected by this than she was. Just once more, she glanced back at the doctor to be sure. But no matter how she tried, she could only come to the same, single conclusion.

The doctor was asking Jean-Roy for permission.

Permission to kill their daughter.

Raw, primal horror flowed through her veins. _She was going to lose her baby!_

"Jean-Roy, no! Please, no! She's our daughter!"

He looked at her. She saw pain there. She saw regret there. She saw responsibility, love, sorrow, duty, dedication, determination, and a need for her to understand his decision. But she couldn't. No matter that Djemn had never been awake a day since she was born. No matter that the doctors could not do anything to explain it. She can't let him kill their child!

"Husband, please! She's our daughter! _She's our daughter!_"

Jean-Roy's breathing had gone a great deal shallower and his jaw was locked tightly as though afraid of what he might say if he allowed himself to speak. His eyes narrowed tiredly. He closed them with pain sketched all over his face. When he opened them again, he avoided looking at his wife and gazed straight towards the doctor. Cezelia sagged lifelessly against him, crying. Once again, those silent white halls were filled with her wails of desperation.

"DJEMN!"

The year was 1978.

**Author's Notes:** I know I promised Hogwarts after the next chapter but this interlude just won't leave me alone till I typed it. So here it is, a small insight story on Djemn's past. But be warned, things are not always as they seem. Cezelia and Jean-Roy may feel like different people here but remember that this is a long time before everything happened. Gigantic thanks to: **emaji** – So glad to hear from you again and happy to know that you liked the Lucius part; **KRP** – You're right about Hadrian, I'll have to think about that. Yes, her hair was really dyed but it's impermanent. Here's a hint about the name: What would you do if you had a word you didn't know the meaning of? **ominix** – Actually, I had thought that my summary wasn't all that good and had been thinking to change it but I just didn't know how. Thanks!  **Rynx-Too-Genki** – Thanks! **XTakaX27** – Well, I used Borgin on the basis that if Lucius Malfoy would choose him of all people to sell Dark Artifacts to, there must be something to it. And the shopkeepers couldn't turn Djemn in for buying dark stuff in bulk because hell, _they_ are the ones selling said dark stuff. They'd be in more trouble than her; **yelloKid** – I'll trade you my talents if you trade me yours (cheeky grin).

See you all next time. Have a nice day!


	20. 19: I'm Free!

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 19 – I'm Free! **

So clear the glass as thought it was not there, between her and the world beyond. The pureness of the snow on the ground shimmered in the afternoon light, mocking her, beckoning her to feel it with her touch. It laughed at her, ridiculing her inability to perform such a simple act, daring her to prove it wrong. But she knew better. She would not touch it. She _could_ not touch it. Not without the pain and grief it would bring to her loved ones. Such an effortless and plain task, yet one she could not achieve. It was probably the equivalent trade for everything else she possessed. Her strengths, her skills, her wisdom. It was a rather fair exchange, if she thought about it. So much given to her, in exchange for such a measly little tolerance.

Djemn stared from her place at the window. The snow had temporarily stopped falling the night before. She could see the entire west grounds of the Helesande estate, still, like the many paintings hung up around her. White, white everywhere as far as the eye could see. The mountains at the edge of the horizon stood like mounds of fresh whipped cream, and the light from the sun made them sparkle as though sprinkled with powdered sugar. Looking down, she could see three figures moving around in the snow. A blond boy and girl were building a fortress, piling up the pristine wintry delight with wide smiles upon their faces. Another boy, one with long black hair, was standing some ways away from the other two, carefully packing the snow into a large, and somewhat fat, snowman. He had a look of intense concentration as he added clumps of melted snow to the rounded ice boulders.

Djemn sighed. It was that time of the year gain. The New Year. And her mother's relatives were here to celebrate the changing of the age. They had arrived yesterday, and the night had later been followed by the luscious New Year's Eve Feast specifically selected by her mother. It had been an enjoyable meal, with many conversations and laughs. Djemn had been able to forget her manners for a moment when food began flying across the table to hit her uncle Christophe square in the cheek. The culprit had quickly been found but no one had had the heart to send the children to bed on that joyous event. It was a nice feeling overall, to have them here at the manor again.

Raising a hand, she let it hover before the glass, mere millimetres away. She could feel the chilly tendrils of winter cold stroking the skin of her palm, ethereally soft. Years of conditioning slowly tugged at her to pull her hand away, away from the danger. Pushing it all aside, she forced her hand forward, to feel the clear glass. The cold came like a shock of electricity. The frigid window panes numbed the skin under her finger tips, bringing forth sensations she had never had the chance to feel before. She marveled in it, the forbidden pleasure. Then suddenly, it was as though brain and instinct finally caught up with her actions, and she jerked her hand away from the glass. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she continued to watch her cousins frolicking about without a care in the snow.

It had always been this way. Every year, the day after the feast, her parents, grandmother, aunt, and uncles would sit in the lounge and talk. Experiences, business, politics, personal affairs, the general state of the world. It was nothing short of eye-opening and thought-provoking. Usually, she would join them in these talks, seeing as she couldn't partake in her cousins' activities in the snow. But earlier, she had excused herself from their discussions. Thus, why she was standing alone in the hallway. She wasn't even sure why she had done that, merely that she was restless sitting there among them. The feeling wasn't something new to her, especially during the winter, and she had never paid it much heed before. In fact, she very much enjoyed her relatives' company every time they came to visit her. But this year, the need for solitude to think had been much stronger and harder to resist. It was as if something had happened to trigger this reaction from her. Not something sudden that happened overnight, but something which caused the effect to manifest over a long period of time. And she could only think of one origin: Her magical education.

Yes, ever since she started learning magic, she had always been moving, be it in a literal or metaphorical sense. Unexpected events led her to operate like a spy, changing plans and shifting priorities like the weather. Her mind was a constant state of debate, thinking and rethinking every move she made or was about to make. There was no safety net, no warm coat of certainty waiting to catch her fall should something go wrong. It was jeopardy in action, repercussions just simmering in the background. And it made her feel _alive_. Not that her life before magic had been boring — No, it was special no matter how routine it got — but it was something that was expected. She always knew exactly what was going to happen before the day itself. Her schedule was always flawless and perhaps only the simplest of things would deviate from her plans. It was a comfort, for she had learned that anything unpredictable in her life could be a recipe for disaster. But this new experience, this ambiguity which hung in the air, clutching at her whenever she walked the halls of Hogwarts, gave her a jolt of excitement from the knowledge that _anything can happen_ and she'd be unable to foresee it. The tart taste of danger that had dulled through numerous life-or-death simulations had returned to her in real life. And no matter that she knew what must be, she will continue to subconsciously hunger for it.

Djemn sighed again. That feeling still lingered. At Hogwarts, where magic made everything possible, she had discovered a new sense of freedom even under the scrutinizing eyes of the professors. Tomes and tomes of information had given her the power to do as she pleased. And she _was_ pleased. But now… returning to the muggle world was a temporary relief as it was a painful reminder of the boundaries on which she cannot cross. Boundaries which kept her on this side of the wall, inside the manor. It was frustrating to think that she would be denied the pleasure of liberty in the cold for just a bit longer again. At least, until she turned seventeen. Potions worked to rectify her condition but they will always carry the threat of wearing off. Only spells which feed on her own energy will be strong enough to permanently remedy her disability. She knew she could try searching for an alternate way by raiding through Hogwarts' library or Salazar's Secret Room, but somehow, her gut just doubted she would find anything of help. Besides, it was not as though she was ready nor had enough experience to actually attempt a ritual of any sorts. Anything could go wrong and she might end up even worse than when she started. No, it was better, and safer, to just wait. She's endured so many years already, what's a few more?

Watching her cousins gather fists after fists of snow in their small, gloved hands, Djemn squashed the tiny spark of longing that had dared to ignite in her chest. All the while, she had been apathetic to the fact that she would never be able to copy her cousins' current actions. It had never bothered her before because it was a _fact_. Simple as that. She accepted it and lived with it. But now, with the knowledge of magic, it had given her the new prospect that she could change that. She supposed that in this way, magic was a somewhat bad influence on her psyche. Greed was a basic human emotion, and with so many open possibilities, she could easily find temptation by herself. She acknowledged that there was nothing wrong with wanting more, but she also knew that that feeling can corrupt and she must be careful of what she was willing to take on. She must always know the limits of what she can and cannot do as well as the consequences of those actions. Still, from where she stood, the snow looked so inviting, so alluring in its holy pureness against everything else…… If only there was some way……

A passage written in the cursive old writing of Salazar flashed through her mind and Djemn's eyes widened marginally.

'_It did mention… Yes, with those properties… That would explain… Dare I try…?' _

That silent question to herself was left unanswered as Djemn turned and quickly made her way to her rooms. The theory was there, the opportunity at her finger tips, but did she dare? There was less than three days before she had to return to Hogwarts. Was she willing to risk it? Just for something she would eventually gain anyway? Silence reined her mind, and she knew her answer.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"—and then, I told the representative that unless he gave us better circumstances in the contract, the deal was off. We managed to come to a pleasant compromise. The shipments start arriving next month."

"That is good to hear, Samantha. I'm sure the new additions will do wonderfully for the business."

"Oh, yes. I've already gotten early orders from our regular customers. Seems they are just as enthusiastic about the new materials. Though there will be experimental stages. We cannot expect the same quality from all different types of—"

Cezelia kept an ear on the conversation happening before her while she casually glanced about. Her mother was resting comfortably in the armchair on her left and the men were having a political discussion further away on her right. Her husband and Maximillian were doing most of the talking with solemn expressions on their faces whereas Christophe would occasionally add a comment or two. Personally, Cezelia couldn't quite understand the appeal there was to conversing about which leader of what country was plotting the secret demise of who, but she supposed it was her husband and eldest brother's job to know about such things, seeing as they both dealt in national security. Christophe was probably just being a sport and looking for some 'manly' company. Heaven knows his business required him to tune in to his more 'soft' sides. While she was sure her elder brother enjoyed his work very much, he perhaps felt the occasional need to be surrounded by his fellow mannish blokes once in a while. Speaking of which, she knew her daughter to derive pleasure in being an audience to their discussions, much to her chagrin. In her mind, it was a matter of concern that Djemn enjoyed political talks and debates so much. Cezelia was not oblivious about her daughter's probable future but she was also not quite ready to surrender her baby to a world of power struggles and mind wars. Djemn was far too young to start thinking like her husband. She had an entire life to lead, a role in a family to play, not to mention, the whole subject itself made Cezelia uncomfor—

Cezelia blinked. Her mind as occupied as it was, she had failed to realize that the subject of her thoughts was nowhere to be found. Momentarily shifting her attention away from the conversation with her sister-in-law, the Helesande matriarch searched the large lounge with her gaze. Djemn was not where she remembered to have seen her, sitting next to Maximillian on the couch. Another quick scan revealed that her daughter was nowhere in the room. Odd. She didn't remember seeing her leave.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but do you know where Djemn is?"

Samantha glanced at her from over the top of her tea cup. Lowering it to her saucer gently, she looked towards the men then back at Cezelia.

"She was with Maximillian last I saw. Perhaps she went to freshen herself?"

Reassured by her sister-in-law's words, Cezelia allowed herself to relax and continue their conversation concerning the latest changes in her family's business. It was not until near three quarters of an hour later that she realized her daughter had yet to return.

"Max?"

Her eldest brother turned to her with just the barest hints of surprise on his face.

"Have you seen Djemn? She's been gone for nearly an hour."

"… No. She excused herself earlier but didn't say why."

A light frown marred Cezelia's forehead as she called for Niles. The old butler walked in briskly, suit and all.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Have you any idea where Djemn is?"

"I'm afraid not, Ma'am. I haven't seen the young mistress since lunch."

"What of Hadrian?" persisted Cezelia.

"I encountered Mr. Kincaid on his way to the library some half hour ago."

"Was Djemn with him?"

"No. He is… under the impression that Miss Djemn is with you, Ma'am."

Cezelia's lips thinned slightly. She didn't want to be irrational and suspect that something had happened to her daughter, but this was unlikely behavior from her. Djemn had always spent the afternoon of New Year's Day with them. She wouldn't just up and leave her relatives without good reason. Plus, it was concerning that no one knew where she was at the moment. Djemn knew better than to wonder off without telling anyone, especially during this season. And by the looks of it, she hadn't even informed Hadrian that she had left the lounge and was alone.

"Tell Hadrian to check on Djemn."

"Yes, Madam."

Niles left to do as told and Cezelia turned back to her conversation with Samantha, pushing her discomfort aside. She was confident that Djemn could take care of herself and told herself that all her worries were, in reality, the simple result of having been separated from her daughter for so long. Alas, twenty minutes later, a very serious looking Hadrian asked to speak with her away from her guests. Anxiety forming in her gut, Cezelia could only excuse herself politely to see to her daughter's bodyguard.

"Ma'am, I could not find Miss Djemn. The tracker is failing to show her location. I have searched every room with the probability of her being in it. I found no one. Miss Djemn is not in the manor." said Hadrian in a hushed voice.

Cezelia felt her insides grow cold. "Have you tried calling her?"

"Four times. She did not answer."

Her heart pumping increasingly faster, Cezelia thought about what this could mean. Various scenarios flashed across her eyes, none of them at all reassuring. Gathering herself, she looked to Hadrian and told him to recheck the entire second floor while she spoke to the manor staff. She gave themselves both thirty minutes to meet up after at the main gallery. Half an hour later, a grim Hadrian and a very distressed mother were standing in front of each other in silence.

"I've asked the staff to search the main and first floor. There's no sign of her! Something must have happened!"

"Ma'am, please calm down. Perhaps we should do a more thorough check of the manor. The tracker might just be malfunctioning."

"But we've looked everywhere! The gym, game room, shooting range, pool, library—"

"The dungeon."

Cezelia looked up at Hadrian with a trace of dread in her eyes. "You think she went there?"

"It's the only place we have yet to try. If she is not there, then we will inform the general about her absence."

Nodding reluctantly, Cezelia made to follow Hadrian to the concealed passage that would lead them to the underground prison when something outside the window caught her attention. Jerking to an abrupt stop, her eyes widened in horror at the sight.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Checking herself over once again, she gingerly reached for the brass doorknob and wrapped her fingers around it. Squeezing the object in her right hand tightly, she twisted the knob and pulled the door open with as much force as she dared. Bitingly cold wind rushed at her face, stinging it painfully for a moment. Djemn closed her eyes in preparation but what she feared did not come. Opening her eyes again, she was greeted with the sight of snow on every inch of land she could see. White, white everywhere, just like what she saw when she stood at the window. But this was different. Here, there was no pane of glass separating her from the chill of winter, to stop her from touching the soft, white frozen rain. Her breath hitched slightly at the thought, whether it be from the sudden cold air or the chance that she might just be free from her bindings now. Tentatively, she took a step forward.

The snow crunched under her foot. The corner of Djemn's lips curled up slightly and she lifted her other foot to join the first, closing the door silently behind her. A soft gust of wind blew and she hissed glaringly when her body started to respond to it. It felt as though the cold had seeped into her bones and her ribcage was clenching her lungs agonizingly. Wrapping her arms around herself, she was not surprised to note that she was shaking like picked guitar string. Somewhere in her mind, a tiny part of her consciousness told her that it was only a matter of seconds now before she fainted into a coma again. Damn her sense of daring curiosity. Turning to head back inside, she was startled when an oddly warm sensation began forming in her right palm. The feeling quickly spread across her limbs, like liquid fire, warming her chilled and quaking appendages. After merely a moment, Djemn could feel herself cease shaking and a tender, pleasant warmth filled her body. Breathing out, puffs of white formed in front of her face as she looked down at her hand. Nestled there in her glove was Undine's Pearl, its reflective bluish green surface glinting faintly in the dim afternoon light. It was a unique jewel created by Salazar using healing spells and elements from the sea. A short note in Artifacts claimed that he had abducted a siren to aid in the creation of the pearl, which was primarily made for remedial purposes. Back in Hogwarts, Djemn had wondered why she had felt less cold after her second visit to Salazar's Secret Room, even when she had cut back on the amount of warming potions consumed lest she got addicted. With this little experiment, it was proven now that Undine's Pearl had been the cause of that. Its therapeutic properties had worked to stem her weakness to the cold. It probably did not work as properly at Hogwarts because she had not been consciously calling on its magic.

Djemn smiled. Her theory had been correct. The small orb in her hand was the key to her freedom in the cold. Joy crept into her chest and wedged itself there, refusing to move even as she did. Carefully placing the precious jewel into one of her dress pockets under her coat, Djemn started to walk away from the manor, into the frozen gardens. Even with ice covering every branch, she could still see the beauty that was the Helesande estate. Coupled with the fact that it was her first time seeing it in person without any sort of object between them, the sight was simply breathtaking. Sure, she'd seen snow and ice before, but not like this. All those other times, it was because of some errand or simply because it was inevitable for her to pass them by. But now, she was free to do as she pleased. Bending down slightly, she scooped a handful of fresh snow and brought it up close to her face. She studied it for a moment, feeling the cold of the snow through her glove but at the same time not worried about how it would affect her. It was the most pleasant feeling she had ever felt. Free from the restrictions, free from the fear. To be able to be cold and enjoy it. Before she could stop herself, blissful laughter burst from her lips and she flung the snow in her hand into the air. Some of it fell onto her face and some landed in her hair. Still laughing, she shook it out wildly without a care in the world. Taking a sprint, she ran through the winter wonderland around her, letting the images of crystallized trees and silver bushes pass her by. After a while, she stopped and threw herself onto the thick snow on the ground. She was getting snow in her hair again but she didn't care. Uncharacteristic giggles escaped her as she lay there a moment, staring up at the dull sky surrounded by the snow laden tree branches. It was beautiful. The world in winter was beautiful. For the first time, Djemn realized just how true that statement was.

Picking herself up and dusting off, she took several deep breaths to calm herself and proceeded to walk out of the garden. Soft laughter reached her ears and she altered her course slightly, following the sounds. She came to the sight of her three cousins playing in the snow. As she had seen earlier, Cloud and Aerith were still building the snow fortress though it was near completion now. A little closer to her, Vincent was vigorously packing more snow into the snowman that was virtually twice his width already. Hesitating for only an instant, Djemn gathered her resolve and moved over to where her dark haired cousin was frowning at his ice figure.

"May I join you?"

Vincent's head snapped up at her sudden question. He stared at her speechlessly for a few seconds, seemingly surprised and confused. Djemn couldn't blame him. For as long as her cousins have known her, she had never set foot outside with them during the winter. And for that matter, she had never joined them in any of their outdoor activities during the New Year visit. They had tried to convince her at first, but her aunt and uncles had quickly dissuaded them from doing so. She knew from her mother that neither one of them actually knew about her condition. They were simply told that she was not comfortable in the cold. It must be odd for them now to see her here, outside, with melted snow stuck to her hair, asking if she could join them.

"Vincent?"

"Um… Alright."

Moving closer, Djemn began to mimic Vincent's actions in fortifying the snowman. One touch of the rounded boulders and she was impressed to discover that they were very tightly packed. At this rate, it would probably last several days before deforming itself. Smiling, Djemn began to add even more snow to the bottom edges.

"I'm surprised you've decided to come."

Looking up, she saw that Vincent was staring at her with interest while holding onto two sizable rocks as eyes for the snowman. "It's not everyday that we get to see you out in the snow."

"Yes. I have decided that I shall fear the cold no longer."

She smiled at the taller boy and he smiled back. Then he turned and concentrated on making the snowman's face, giving Djemn a perfect side view of himself. She noticed the way his waist long black hair swished on his back when he moved. Midnight black, like her own. Moving her attention to his face, she took in the exotic features. Of all of them, Vincent was the one who most resembled her maternal grandfather, or so she had been told. She had never met either of her grandfathers as they'd both died by the time she was born. Though, by looking at Vincent alone, she could harbour a guess that her mother's father had been quite the Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. Her uncle Maximillian definitely looked it, being his firstborn son.

Turning back to the snowman, Djemn continued to pile the white powder onto the figure until as sudden as a gunshot, a loud shout rang across the still courtyard.

"DJEMN ISOLDE TARA HELESANDE! WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!?"

'_Uh-oh.' _

Twisting her head around in dread, Djemn watched as her mother practically _flew_ across the courtyard towards her. Her dress was lifted to half calf to prevent herself from tripping as she hellishly dashed over the snow. Behind her, Hadrian was quickly gaining speed. Djemn noted that neither were wearing any winter garments to protect themselves from the cold. They had probably sped out of the manor the moment they realized where she was. Which spelt trouble for her. She supposed she should have told someone what she had been intending to do, but she hadn't wanted their disappointment if her theory failed. In hindsight, she admitted it was a very stupid action on her part. If her theory had indeed failed, then chances were she would have fallen unconscious again with no one the wiser.

Hadrian had reached her then and immediately shrugged out of his suit jacket to wrap it around her. She didn't protest at the action, but when he started to lift her from the snow, Djemn gently struggled out of his reach.

"Hadrian, I'm fin—"

"Djemn! Have you lost your mind! Return inside this instant!" was the first thing out of her mother's mouth when she reached her.

"Mother, I'm fine!"

"As soon as you're inside. Have you any idea what could happen to you out here? Of course you have! What's gotten into you? Heavens, you're pink with cold! Hadrian—!"

Before her mother could explode with worry, Djemn swiftly moved forward and caught one of her mother's hands. Removing a glove, she pressed her bare palm against her mother's.

"Mother, I am not cold."

Cezelia silenced at the words. Her eyes were focused on their joined hands even as her brain sought to make sense of what she'd just heard. Belatedly, she brought her other hand up to clasp over the top of her daughter's. It was with shock, wonder and a great amount of confusion that she realized her daughter was right. She _wasn't_ cold.

"You're not… cold?"

Djemn smiled and shook her head slowly. "No."

They stayed that way for a moment, each staring at the other, before Cezelia abruptly dropped to her knees in the snow and pulled Djemn flush against her.

"I thank the spirits of heaven and earth for this blessing."

Djemn smiled faintly. She knew those words. Her grandmother used them too sometimes. She was the one who taught it to both her and her mother. It was a tiny prayer of thanks seldom spoken unless truly meant, paying homage to the spirits which govern the skies, lands, winds, seas, and everything in between.

"But, how is it that…Is it the… ?"

"I will tell you come evening."

Her mother looked at her, confused for a second before nodding. Djemn would have told her then, but she was mindful of her three cousins who had ceased all movements to pay full attention to them. Her mother's sudden shout and worried expression must have troubled them deeply. Cezelia was not generally known as a loud and anxious person to her niece and nephews. Catching their eyes, she stood to reassure them that everything was alright. Cloud and Aerith sighed in relief and Vincent merely blinked, baffled by the events and people in front of him.

"So, does that mean I can continue to help Vincent build his snowman?"

Djemn gave her mother what she hoped was a hopeful expression. Cezelia pursed her lips while she thought. Djemn had told her that she was not feeling the cold of the winter, but did that make it alright for her to frolic about in the snow? For all she knew, it could be that potion Djemn told her about at work again. If she remembered correctly, there was a time limit to it. Was the risk worth the joy she knew her daughter would experience if she gave her consent?

"Please, mother?"

And Cezelia crumbled.

"Alright, but only for a while longer. I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

Giving her mother another smile in thanks, Djemn turned back to the rapidly enlarging snowman and went along making it even bigger. Fist after fist of snow, packing it tightly, molding it into the boulder, smoothing out the edges—

PUHT!!!

Djemn froze as a sudden pressure impaled her back. And as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Whirling around, she caught the sight of Cloud and Aerith giggling gleefully.

"Djemnie, you're a sitting duck!" teased Aerith.

It took Djemn a moment to fully understand what had happened. Aerith had thrown a snowball — _a snowball!_ — at her. Her, Djemn Helesande, junior black cadet, had been hit by a nine year old with a ball of frozen rain. The absurdity of it all stunned her. But only for a split second.

"Oh, I am sitting duck, am I?"

Narrowing her eyes, Djemn bent down, grabbed a fistful of snow, rolled it up tightly and threw it back in the direction of her younger cousin. Aerith squeaked as the snowball came dangerously close to her shoulder.

"This is WAR!"

And the air was filled the flying snowballs.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The scarlet steam engine chugged its way down the tracks, its cars full of young witches and wizards, heading back towards Scotland. But this year, unlike the years before it, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wore solemn expressions on their faces as the locomotive drew closer and closer to their beloved castle. Little wonder why. Each boy or girl had the same thoughts, fears and uncertainties running rampant through their young minds. The events before the Christmas holidays stayed fresh before their eyes. The stoned look on Justin Finch-Fletchley's face, the murky apparition that had once been the jolly Sir Nearly Headless Nick. Who knew who would be next on the list? That girl? That snobbish prefect? What if one of the professors got attacked? What if the monster had specific preferences? No one knew what to expect once back within the walls of Hogwarts, and all were worried for their fates. All except one.

Djemn let her eyes roam over the snow covered lands outside her window as the Hogwarts Express made its way north. Truly the world was different in winter. The farm she had seen when in autumn was now roofed in snow, its chocolate brown barn looking remarkably like a large cake ornament. There was no sign of any of the animals, but that was normal as it was, after all, winter.

"Did you have a good Christmas, senior?"

Djemn turned towards the other three people sharing her compartment. All of them were Slytherin first years. Glancing at the person who had spoken to her, she faintly recognized him as the boy who had approached her on the night of Parkinson's sneak attack. … Gabriel Pheneas.

She answered him with the vaguest hint of a smile, recalling the snowball fight she had with her cousins on New Year's Day. "Yes, it was quite pleasant."

"Oh, did you receive many presents then?"

"My family does not uphold the tradition of exchanging gifts during Christmas."

Then she turned back towards the window, but not before seeing the surprised look on Gabriel's face. She dismissed it. It didn't matter to her really. Even their presence in her space or their attempts at small talk. She blamed it all on her good mood from the holidays. After a moment, the first year went back to talking with his friends, seemingly understanding that Djemn deemed the conversation finished. This left her to think about other things which have been pushed aside in lieu of her delight a few days past.

Remembering caused a glimmer of happiness to form in her heart. She had her freedom now. She was free to do as she liked. For that one moment when she pelted her cousins with snow, she had forgotten her responsibilities, obligations and self. She forgot that she was her father's daughter, a soldier who neither flinched nor blinked at blood and death. Then, she was just Djemn, daughter, child, and cousin. But like all good things, it was only for a moment.

Now, with Hogwarts looming closer, a hard sheen returned to her eyes. She was what she had been trained to be once again. There was no room for the childishness she had displayed during the New Year, no room for softness to be taken advantage of. Bitter, harsh reality was what she had to remember now. And remember it she would, for she had things to take care of when back within the school.

'_I hope you know what you were doing, Professor. Because I never do things halfway. And anything or anyone standing in my way has to be destroyed. Even you.' _

**Author's Notes:** No, Lore or mess did not die in a ditch somewhere – It was a gutter. That said, a THOUSAND apologies for the uber late update. I told you school pressure works for me. I know it's not even a proper excuse, but I think I'm having Writer's Burn-out Syndrome. Words just aren't coming to me. And this chap feels off… Honestly, even I feel that this chapter is pointless but needed. Does that make sense? Please leave a review with your comments, and the next chap will be back at Hogwarts, I SWEAR!

**KRP:** You're such a dear, what would I do without you? Unfortunately, I can't answer most of your questions or it'll give away the plot. And yeah, Djemn was just playing with dye; the mask works for hair too. Good job on the name bit! **Edengrave:** You flatter me. Thank you! **Rynx-Too-Genki: **Shh… Plot secret. Smiles. The last chap was a bit short coz it's only an interlude. **Ms.PotterBlack:** It's okay. I'm glad to know that you've enjoyed it. **Hongske:** Oh, flesh blood! So good to know you liked it. Do keep reading! Also, big thanks to **yelloKiD, Kalush** and **taugeh.**

Until next chapter, have a nice day everyone!


	21. 20: And she said BOOM!

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 20 – And she said "BOOM!"**

……_Instead of a solid, stationary form of defense, I have found that a more creative way of security lends to far more satisfying results. More often than not, the invader is left incapacitated or has taken an adequate amount of mental trauma that he will no longer pose a threat…… _

Djemn knew that she had never really said it out loud or given it much thought before, but she really liked this Salazar Slytherin person. The simple and practical way in which he thinks has yet ceased to amaze her. He was a man who understood when the best form of defense was a good offence and he was not afraid to utilize that saying to the maximum when he felt that it was needed. In other words, like her father, his attributes made him a man she could appreciate.

'_Not to mention, he also had an excellent sense of comfort.'_ thought Djemn as she leaned back lazily in the dark green chair behind the desk. She gave herself a moment of blank peace before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. She was currently sitting in the secret room, reading one of Salazar's tomes on mind magic. Really, the way those books from Knockturn Alley described it, it was as though Occlumency was an art of tremendous effort and skill. It wasn't. Salazar made it perfectly clear that any Tom, Dick and Harry who was in any way capable of organizing one's thoughts was able to perform Occlumency. They simply needed practice and a sharp will. Most people have problems learning this branch of magic because of their puny incompetence at steeling one's mind against unwanted sensations. Humans were, after all, cowardly creatures with overzealous tendencies to protect the privacy of their memories from strangers. Their lack of mind discipline simply worked in the perpetrator's favour in breaking apart their mental defenses. Salazar explained that Occlumency was, in reality, not merely the simple act of protecting one's thoughts but a battle of the minds. The one with the stronger resolve will prevail over the weaker and ultimately flush out the invader or gain access to the latter's psyche. The same went for Legilimency, only in the opposite. Though, undoubtedly, the art of invading another's consciousness was doubly harder compared to protecting what was rightfully one's own.

Djemn sighed and closed her eyes, willing all thoughts to leak way and floated into her subconscious. She was not new to this procedure as she'd done it many times before to visit Perspicacity. Back then, she had no idea that this was actually a distant form of Occlumency, the act of disappearing into one's own mind to debate among one's own thoughts. Now that she had read Salazar's clarifications, she somehow understood that all the 'Djemns' she saw inside the stone room were in fact different aspects of her personality, each working to balance out the others.

The idea that she had an automatic little parliament inside her own head gave her a weird sentiment. Not bad, simply weird.

It was little more than a week since she had returned to Hogwarts, and within that time alone, Djemn had had little luck in solving the problem which had been plaguing her mind since the start of the Christmas holidays. To think that she had not realized it sooner. For a month and a half, the man had probably been laughing behind her back every time he saw her. The gall of him. But she was patient. And creative. She was sure she would be able to repay his civility with equal graciousness. Still, righteous revenge aside, the return to Hogwarts had brought about other matters as well. It seemed that Hermione Granger had been hospitalized in the Hospital Wing. Rumours range from her being petrified to her being mauled beyond recognition by Hogwarts' ghouls. Personally, Djemn didn't care much about what had happened to her but a quick word with Jormungand had ensured that the muggle-born had not been attacked. Not by the basilisk, at least. Which relates to another problem. After a rather lengthy discussion with her father, Djemn had decided that, for the time being, the best course of action concerning the Heir of Slytherin was to ignore him. There wasn't much she could do to an unidentified student, regardless of the fact that they had probably been within several feet of each other at some point. Jormungand was doing good in keeping his word and if she continued to appear only in the Secret Room, there was little chance of her and the Heir meeting face-to-face. She knew that eventually, their encounter would be inevitable but until then, the only thing she could do was watch and plan.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Exhale… mist… exhale… mist…

The sharp cry of an eagle echoed overhead as Djemn raised her eyes to the dreary late January sky. It had stopped snowing earlier in the morning and she was in one of the lesser known outer east courtyards of Hogwarts. Statues of mythical figures in all shapes and sizes littered the space, each miraculously devoid of any snow on their smooth concrete bodies. Naked trunks of trees surrounded the small, unusual garden. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thanatos circle and land silently atop the statue of Camulus, the Celtic god of war. Reaching into her pocket, she felt for the reassuring warmth of Undine's Pearl. Silence permeated the empty courtyard and only the slightest tendrils of chilly winter breeze stroked her cheeks.

'_One more time.' _

"Thanatos, come."

Djemn stretched her arm out as the white and grey eagle came swiftly at her order. She slowly adjusted her arm till she was looking directly at Thanatos's eyes. Fatigue and strain pulled mercilessly at her mind as she employed the spell yet again for the fourth time. Her hand shook and she fisted it tightly as she repeated the commands like a chant and forced them into the awareness of her familiar. With a jerk, she propelled Thanatos back into the air and watched as he flew a circle then swooped down to recapture the stone that they had been using to practice. Then, with dangerously accurate precision, he dropped the projectile into the small hole Djemn had made in the ground to serve as a target. A small, triumphant cry was heard as Thanatos looped around an icicle-laden tree and came back to land beside her.

Djemn sighed heavily and leaned back against the statue of Apollo behind her, closing her eyes. The spell was a demanding one and simply practicing it was already taking its toll on her. Truth be told, she knew that she was probably taking things a little too quickly. After all, Legilimency was relatively new to her and she'd only been learning the basics when she had stumbled upon this spell. Like a moth to light, it reeled in her attention and set off a whirlwind of devious thoughts before leaving her with enough information to create Operation 11. Some fine tuning and a letter to her father later, all that was missing was for her to ensure that Thanatos could obey her orders to the word when the time finally came to 'drop the bomb'.

Djemn glanced at her familiar, who in turn, cocked his head at her. It was hard, at first. No matter how she tried to force her way into Thanatos's mind, it was like trying to scale a wet glass wall. There was nothing to hold onto. It was only after some time that she became accustomed to the eagle's mentality and saw that the method of a full frontal attack was futile. She had to move like liquid, weaving herself into Thanatos's mind as though performing an exotic dance. Her first successful attempt came after four days of relentless effort. The experience was strange to say the least. She had glimpsed herself through Thanatos's eyes for a split second before foreign, peculiar thoughts started to invade her consciousness. Thoughts such as how she couldn't find more of those scrumptious dead chickens around the school anymore, and annoyance at the bare trees which provide close to no concealment during hunting. Indeed, Djemn was pretty sure those thoughts did not belong to her, though they did provide some rather interesting bit of information. After a few more tries which took up most of her free time in the following week, she was finally able to order Thanatos to do exactly what she wanted him to. To think that a simple matter of deliver and deposit would cost her so much time and effort. It certainly taught her not to underestimate the complexity of magic.

'_No matter. Come the time, this will all be worth every second spent in silent humiliation. I merely hope he will not be_damaged_ too badly.' _

With that last thought, Djemn turned and headed back into the school, Thanatos following behind her obediently.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Breakfast was always a noisy affair. It was as though the students from all four houses were trying to outdo each other in a competition to see who could be the noisiest bunch of the lot first thing in the morning. Voices went up to barely tolerable levels, tableware clinked and clanked as though they were being used by people who didn't know a thing about what to do with them, and more often than not, more food ended up on the floor and benches than on the table by the end of the meal, regardless of the ever-refilling plates. It would seem that the highly alluded appearance of the Heir of Slytherin did very little to dampen the hyper dispositions of the students, if only early in the mornings.

Djemn despised breakfast at Hogwarts. It was the reason why she always came and left the Great Hall earlier than the majority of the student population. It wasn't that she couldn't tolerate them. She simply did not prefer to go to class every morning feeling as though she'd just come from witnessing feeding time at the local zoo. Sitting at the Slytherin table where at least some manner of decorum was retained was somewhat placating, but only so much. Fortunately though, on that bright, mundane Monday morning, the usual, noisy, disorderly affair was exactly what she needed. Operation 11 depended on the fact that nobody would pay any attention to anybody. Absolute normalcy was essential.

It was with that thought in mind that Djemn braced herself and stayed in the Great Hall during breakfast that morning, pretending to be busy with some thing or another. More and more students were gradually walking into the hall and the noise level was steadily picking up.

'_Good.' _

She glanced up at the table diagonally from hers and watched as her target went about finishing his breakfast. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she looked away casually. The time was close now……

As if on cue, the mail arrived. Owls of all shapes and sizes plus an odd aerial creature or two descended into the hall in waves. Monday was always the day with the most mail activity, precisely why Djemn chose this day to execute her revenge. The cries of the birds and the voices of the students rose even higher, making the situation further more suitable for her impending actions. She watched calmly as Thanatos landed in front of her with a letter from her father, as always. Coolly, she took the letter from the offered leg and pushed some bacon towards the bird of prey, sparing only a small glance to make sure that the leather protection on the eagle's feet was still secure. As she placed the newly received letter into her pocket, no one saw her hands withdraw and hide beneath the table. No one saw the odd movements her hands made, as though pulling something apart. And then, even if someone had been looking, no one would have been able to see what she held in her hand when they resurfaced onto the table top, for there was nothing there.

One hand coming up to pet Thanatos, the other discreetly pushing the unseen object into one of his claws, Djemn locked eyes with her familiar and mentally recited the order she been giving him for two weeks now. When she withdrew from his mind, she saw the eagle stare back at her with determined black eyes, holding himself proud and erect before her like a soldier. An indiscernible smile formed on her lips even as her eyes glimpsed to the side and saw her target reach for his goblet.

"Go."

Without any hint of hesitation, Thanatos spread his regal wings and took flight. Like all the other birds intent on leaving the Great Hall, he gained altitude as he headed for the large windows set high in the walls. And once again, no one saw the glinting black talons slacken and drop the invisible object……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Albus considered it the start of a good day. Yes, as he looked over the many students of his beloved Hogwarts, it was the start of a much better day indeed. A burst of laughter came from his far right and he smiled at the sight of young Dean Thomas who was desperately trying to hide the rapidly growing number of red hearts upon his person. It seemed the Weasley twins had discovered a new type of prank to herald the upcoming Valentine's Day not two weeks away. Indeed, things did seem lighter now that a whole month had passed without any sign of the Heir of Slytherin. Albus could only hope and pray that the monster was gone and not merely resting, waiting for the right time to deal a more deadly attack. But it was hard, when somewhere in his subconscious, a voice was constantly telling him that nothing is as easy as it seems.

Glancing to his sides, he smiled again to see his colleagues eating their breakfasts contently. Pomona was once again telling Minerva about one of the mutated plants she'd found in one of her greenhouses and Filius was quite happy humming a little tune to himself as he speared a piece of sausage. Looking to his right, Albus's eyes found themselves on Hogwarts's resident potions master at the rightmost end of the staff table. Severus's customary scowl was evident even as he gracefully finished the rest of his meal. Next to him, Septima looked neither disturbed nor bothered by her neighbor's disagreeable outlook as she sat reading over a piece of parchment. Really, the only two people who the Slytherin head of house tolerated to sit near him and vice-versa were Septima Vector and Rolanda Hooch. And Albus, of course, though Severus always scowled fiercely whenever he did. Everyone else simply couldn't stand that acid tongue of his.

Eyes twinkling, Albus was about turn back to his own meal when, without warning, Severus's hand exploded.

More specifically, the goblet in his hand exploded.

Albus watched with wide eyes as the metal goblet in the potion master's hand burst outwards with a loud _'BOOM!'_, spewing sparks and flames of unnatural colour. It was as though the world had been cast with an impediment charm as Albus watched the metal pieces fly from Severus's burning hand to his face, drawing deep cuts on his cheeks and forehead. The tea from the now devastated goblet splashed onto the table, unexplainably bringing the bright yellow flames with them. A grunt of pain escaped the potions master's mouth as his body jerked in shock and he wretched his hand back to his chest, gripping it painfully. The fire on his hand was doused but the staff table however, was now starting to burn in several places where the tea had spread.

Albus leapt up and immediately shot a blast of water from his wand towards the flames. What he didn't expect was for the blaze to burn even stronger than before. Intense yellow flames leapt high for a moment before the strangest thing happened. The flames bent back in on itself and began to form what seemed to be blinding balls of light. A loud hissing sound was heard as all the fire became luminous spheres spinning at indescribable speeds on the staff table. The scene was as mesmerizing as it was baffling. Wasting not another second, Albus pointed his wand at the nearest non-liquid solution to put out the fires. _Mashed potatoes_, of all things available, flew across the table top in giant scoops and landed with loud splats on the spinning spheres, cutting off the sudden light that had radiated from them. The hissing sound stopped, leaving the hall in tense silence.

"Severus! Septima! Are you all right?"

A small movement from the potions master gave Albus the impression that he would have glared at the headmaster for asking such a brainless question but as it was, with his face nearly covered with blood from the cuts, he refrained from doing so. A short inspection later, Albus concluded that while the potions master's blood-stained face was worry-inducing, the real damage had been to his hand. If nothing else, the way it shook slightly and the way Severus was gripping his left wrist with a vice-like grip, told Albus all he needed to know.

"Minerva—"

The name was barely out of the headmaster's mouth before his deputy rushed to the potions master's side, assisting the resisting man to his feet.

"—perfectly capable of walking by myself—"

A fact that was clearly apparent to the headmaster and deputy headmistress but Severus's right hand was white from the force he was using to grip his wrist, so the transfiguration professor remained a hold on his arm anyway. Albus shifted his gaze to Septima and was relieved to see that, aside from a few non-life threatening grazes on her right forearm, she was relatively alright, though understandably shaken. The parchment she had been reading lay abandoned on the scorched and soiled table. Several reassuring words from him had her nodding her head dumbly and standing up to follow Minerva and Severus to the Hospital Wing. Albus watched them go with a thousand thoughts whirling in his mind. He surveyed his students, who had started to whisper and exclaim quietly about the horrific incident. What had happened? Who had done it? _How_ had they done it? Questions everyone wanted answered. Albus watched as numerous accusatory eyes swiveled repeatedly towards the infamous Weasley twins but he could see the two fourth year students shake their heads with mockingly contrite expressions.

"If only, Gred…"

"If only, Forge…"

Many students were not convinced by their act, reluctant to give them the benefit of the doubt. Albus wouldn't too, given their past records, but the headmaster knew that no matter how rough the twins got, they would never intentionally injure anyone with their pranks. For that matter, so wouldn't most of his students. But hesitant as he was to admit it, Severus wasn't a teacher well liked by the majority of the school. Many would probably pay to see him in a little pain. This whole incident could have just been a mean prank gone wrong.

'_But prank or not, the fact remains that two of my staff are injured. I _will_ find out who is behind this……'_

Albus's eyes hardened as the twinkle dimmed.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The bell rang and the students started to leave the great hall. The hushed whispers continued as friends grouped together and theorized the likeliest explanation behind the morning's incident. No one paid any mind to the small girl walking among their midst. No one thought it odd that she was hiding her right hand in her sleeve. And no one saw the smile at the corner of her lips.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Severus…… had no words to explain what he was feeling at that moment as he slashed his quill furiously across a fifth year's essay. The fresh, black ink of the nasty comment reflected the candles' light for an instant, mocking him, before seeping into the parchment. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat and the potions master had to consciously curl his fingers to keep from ripping the essay in half or flinging it across his office. A deep breath was followed by a round of calming Occlumency before Severus could finally force himself to unclench his fist and relax his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was automatically drawn to the left side of his desk, where his left hand was resting, wrapped in bandages and clamped around a large potion vial. Hot, angry blood rushed to his ears as he once again replayed the events of the morning in his head.

The pain of the explosion, the cuts and later, the healing, all came back to him in a flood of memories. Breakfast that morning had been the same insufferable affair until that goblet exploded in his hand. It had happened all too quickly for Severus to react. By the time he did, his hand was a bloody mess, throbbing like someone had speared it a hundred times with a blunt fork then dunked it in a pool of acid. He hadn't even realized that his face was injured until he felt the blood tickling his eyelashes and the thick, copper taste invaded his mouth.

Then he saw the light in front of him. Spinning spheres, hissing and glowing, dancing upon the staff table. Severus's gaze had been irrevocably caught by the bright display until the mounds of mashed potatoes 'splat'ed unceremoniously in front of him. It was only then that he realized the full impact of the ordeal. Damage control followed.

Severus cursed under his breath when he recalled how the school matron had practically cradled his hand in an attempt to determine the extent of the damage done to it. It turned out that, aside from the obvious injuries sustained from the small explosion, Severus had suffered severe chemical burns as well. Poppy had managed to find traces of concentrated lye from his charred, sorry excuse of a limb. It was then that the nurse had the gall to call him _lucky_ as, with his third to fourth degree heat and chemical burns, most of his nerves were too dead to send any impulses. Or else he'd be feeling_a lot_ more pain. It was also then that he'd snapped at the woman and told her to just fix him.

The process had been long and painful. Some of his hand muscles and most of his nerves and skin had to be re-grown. Not to mention, there was the cuts on his face to address. Septima got off easy. A minor healing spell later and she was off from the hospital wing. Severus on the other hand had to stay. It was only after a few hours that he'd finally managed to feel his fingers again without feeling any pain. His face was still stiff though. As a result of the incident, the potions master's classes had to be canceled. A good thing too because Severus didn't think he could have made it through the day without killing at least one of his students if he had to teach while in his current mood.

Severus stared at his hand. The cotton bandages wrapped around his fingers and palm were there as a preventative measure so that he doesn't injure the tender, new skin with unnecessary friction. The vial in his hand was merely a grip-toy to stop him from clenching his fist and breaking the delicate epidermis with his nails. The first was Poppy's idea, the latter, his. He needed something to calm him down and prevent him from doing any more damage to himself and having a familiar vial in his hand helped him achieve that.

Looking down at his desk, his eyes raked across the essay and the comment he'd left at the bottom. _—"If your stunted brain cannot even comprehend the simplest reactions of a moonstone, then I fail to see why you even attempt to coax your underdeveloped faculties towards comprehending the fine art of potions."— _It wasn't really the fifth year's fault. And Severus would admit that it was a half decent essay…… if he had been in a good mood. Unfortunately for the fifth year, the potions master was in the worst possible mood and this particular batch of students were the unlucky recipients of his foul disposition.

A deep sigh escaped him as Severus gently flexed his bandaged fingers. He could still feel a faint throbbing whenever he moved them too much and only about seventy percent of his grip power had returned. Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to _break, destroy, kill_ something threatened to undo him but Severus gritted his teeth and willed it to pass. He'd been enduring these little episodes for the better part of the day and it was really starting to tire him out as he restrained himself from desecrating his office. He knew that the only way for him to be rid of these urges before they turn homicidal was for him to find the culprit behind the morning's incident.

'_But who? Which unspeakable, impudent, moronic,_ suicidal_ person would dare do such a thing? For that matter, _how_ did they accomplish it?' _

Severus had drank from the goblet seconds before it exploded and he was very much certain that it had been the normal Hogwarts blend of tea, nowhere anything near the composition of lye. When Poppy had dared to venture a question of whether he had consumed any German pastries that morning, the potions master had been quick to snap at her that her underestimation of his intelligence concerning chemically-doused dough was grossly nauseating. That had been the end of that argument. But now, after having some time to think, Severus was beginning to truly question the nature of how lye had gotten upon his person. Poppy had mentioned that his hand hadn't been the only place she'd found traces of it, his robes were covered in it too.

Logically thinking, it didn't make any sense. Normal explosions create a great volume of expanded gas and force it away from the centre point of origin, causing a shockwave to travel through the air and impel any stray objects in its path. But Severus hadn't been holding any sort of incendiary material — _it was a bloody goblet!_ — so what had served as the explosive? And where had the lye come from? Taking magic into account, it could have been a curse or a jinx but then what about the spinning balls of light? From what Severus could remember, they were made of the flames from the explosion. What was their purpose by reforming themselves as spinning, blazing spheres? There was no curse he knew of that could cause such a reaction and he doubted Albus knew much better when he spoke to him earlier.

Severus fought the urge to pull at his hair, knowing full well that he'd leave his scalp throbbing afterwards. Instead, the eagle feather quill still in his right hand cracked and broke into two under his livid grasp. It was simply too infuriating knowing that he'd been had one over and there was nothing he could do about it because he didn't even know what had actually happened!

A crack appeared on the vial in his left hand and Severus felt his eyes be drawn to it.

'_Good. I'm recovering.' _

The thought calmed him down somewhat as the potions master turned towards the broken quill and repaired it with a wave of wandless magic. He didn't normally practice wandless magic very often. It was more taxing than wand magic, nearly twice as hard and sometimes more, depending on the type of spell he was planning to use. Many wizards didn't use it and most regard total control of it as unachievable simply because they didn't have the will or the strength to do it. Severus had always enjoyed the knowledge that he was privately quite proficient at it.

Looking down to regard the essay one last time, he rolled it up and let it fall off to one side of his desk, moving on to the next miserable fifth year's essay. The writing was horrible and had Severus been any less used to reading such deplorable scribbling from loud-mouthed, arrogant little brats, he'd have immediately classified the boy as a retard with minimal knowledge of the alphabet. As it was, he already thought of them as little better then that.

It was somewhere through the process of deciphering the essay that a sudden knock came from his office door.

Severus felt one of his eyebrows rise. It was slightly more than an hour past dinner and the perfect time for students to pester their professors with their petty little problems. In Severus's case, the person at the door could be either Albus or one of his students. The first was unlikely as Albus was more prone to fire-calling him and then 'inviting' him to his office, but the latter was even more improbable because his students knew better than to disturb him in the evenings unless it was absolutely an emergency. Besides, the curfew implemented since the Heir of Slytherin was still standing and whoever who dared to slip around it to see a professor was still liable to get punished. And Severus doubted anyone would want to be alone with him after the morning's incident anyway.

Ensuring that his wand was with him, hidden within his sleeve, he stood and stalked over to the door, opening it just wide enough to allow him to peer out. Severus had to school his expression when wary puzzlement turned to surprise at seeing Helesande, of all people, standing outside his office.

"Good evening, professor. May I have a word with you? There is something we need to discuss."

Arrogant even when seeking acquiescence. There was a quality in her tone which indicated that she was merely asking because it was polite and that she knew he would consent to their meeting even if she hadn't. Severus fought against snarling and felt his upper lip curl slightly at the Slytherin student standing before him.

"And what makes you think I would entertain your presence?"

It was against his duties as a head of house to decline when sought, but Severus really did not feel up to listening to some spoiled brat's bewailing, especially in his current mood. A brief memory of the abuse incident in Albus's office resurfaced in his mind and he viciously squashed it like a bug. He did not need to feel any sort of pity or empathy for the girl. He had learned to solve his own problems and so would she, without any help from anyone. He was not a fluffy pillow she could cry on whenever 'Daddy Dearest' decided she needed a spanking. Besides, he doubted that was the case. The Christmas holidays had ended a month ago. Any emotional distress she had received prior should have already been dealt with. If she hadn't, then all the more reason why Severus should turn her away. He wasn't an abuse counselor and he certainly didn't want any details about Helesande's home life, head of house position be damned.

Helesande gave him a long, slow look before her eyes flicked down to rest pointedly on his bandaged left hand, partially hidden by his robes. Her gaze lasted for only a millisecond before they snapped back up to his face. Severus felt a devastating rush of enraged blood and magic surge in his veins.

'_This… this insolent whelp…!' _

The brass door knob dug into Severus's palm as he clenched it in an attempt to not draw his wand and mutter the first curse he could think of. Helesande continued to stare at him impassively, expression unreadable as she waited patiently for him to invite her in. Gritting his teeth, the potions master held the door open wider and Helesande swept into the room without the faintest bit of hesitation. She took no notice of him slamming the door forcefully behind her and casually inspected the room with mild disinterest.

Severus stalked over to his desk and proceeded to glare heatedly at the only muggle-born student in his house. Said muggle-born seemed content to ignore him for the moment in favour of his office.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently.

At that, Helesande finally turned towards him and lifted a cool eyebrow.

"Are you not going to conjure me a chair, professor?"

Severus could feel himself tense and deliberately pause as his magic threatened to lash out violently at the student before him. Helesande cocked her head innocently at him as he carefully leaned his hands onto his desk and leveled his deadliest glare yet at her.

"I will not let you take that tone with me, girl. You _will_ respect me."

The promise of pain and suffering. Severus could hear it in his own low voice, echoing softly in the stone dungeon acting as his office. But Helesande merely gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

"Do unto others what other do unto you. You cannot ask me to respect you, professor, when you do not respect me."

An amazing surge, hot and ugly, shot through Severus's chest but he locked it down, pushing it aside with the familiarity which came from years of Occlumency practice. Inhaling calmly, he narrowed his eyes dangerously as he remained a tight control over his magic and emotions.

"You seem to believe that it is a necessity for me to respect you, _child_. While I would simply hate to destroy such a naïve and … mollifying delusion, I find myself unable to refrain from stating that, as a professor, there is no binding need for me to _revere_ you as_ I_ am the one who will be dealing out punishments when I find_ insolent_ _students_ showing_ disrespect_."

Helesande gave no reply to his words, choosing to simply stare at him with a blank look on her face. A few moments passed as neither said or did anything before a distantly smug expression overcame Helesande's features, a small, sweet smile tugging at her lips.

"How is you hand, professor? I do hope it is not damaged too badly."

Severus's wand was in his hand, his fingers stroking the smooth, dark wood. The girl was too bold, too impertinent, and she needed to be disciplined. Merlin, how he wanted to do it…

The potions master conjured up an armchair in front of his desk without another word and sat down casually. Helesande mimicked him, choosing to not comment on his sudden change of attitude.

"It is not any of your concern. Classes will resume as normal tomorrow."

"I am glad to hear that."

Severus could feel his fingers clenching, but a cool wind blew through his mind and pushed his anger into a dark corner, turning his rage into a cold, calm fury. He needed to remain composed.

"Oh? Is that so?"

The tone of his voice made it perfectly clear that he very much doubted her relief over his injury.

"I have no wish for you to die, professor."

Her words caught him by surprise. Not only because of her sudden relate to death, but because, as she had said it, an immense sense of honesty had been projected from her. Severus's eyes narrowed. Either the girl was a better liar than he was, which was as likely as him wearing a tutu, or she was being truthful, which was in its own way highly unlikely as well. This was not what he'd expected, though frankly, he hadn't known what to expect either. Every instinct, every fibre of his being was screaming to him that the girl in front of him knew the truth behind the morning's incident, and one did not become a spy without acquiring some rather accurate instincts. Severus had been almost certain that she was here to gloat but then she went and said something completely contradictory to his suspicions. The potions master was confused. And he did not like being confused.

"And I do not care what you wish or do not wish for, neither do I have the time to listen to your heart's many insignificant desires. Why are you here?"

"My father mentioned to me that he depicted you as my favourite professor. It is true. Of all the adults in this castle, you are perhaps the only one in whom I hold a positive opinion. Unlike the other professors, you seem to understand what the eye cannot see. Which is why I am so deeply disappointed at your offence against me. I must ask for you to return to me that which you took."

While she was speaking, her voice remained light and careless but Severus could see the determined gleam behind those dark eyes. The simple request was nothing less than a full demand. However, even if Severus had an inkling of what she was talking about, his mind did not progress further than the point where he comprehended that she was accusing him of thievery! The nerve of her! Gritting his teeth, the potions master fought to work his mind around the accusation and gather his wits about him as boiling rage threatened to overcome him again.

"A bold accusation. You forget your place as student. As such, you will serve detention with me after dinner on Wednesday and Friday. Perhaps these sessions will hammer into your ingrate skull some much needed sense of humility. That said, I have not the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Helesande smiled at him. But it was a sharp smile.

"You toy with me, sir. But I am tired of games. I simply want what is rightfully mine returned to me."

Severus snarled. _How dare her!_ "And what proof do you have that I have committed such a crime against you? You dare accuse me of such a disreputable act without a hint of evidence?"

"You were the only one with access to the object. While it pains me to say it, there is no other suspect. Now I repeat, please return what belongs to me."

Severus stood abruptly from his chair, his anger no longer permitting him to sit passively. His fingers itched to strike at the girl in front of him and a curse was gathered enticingly on his tongue. But he forced it back. The enchantments which bound him as a teacher at Hogwarts would not allow him to harm one of her students without provocation, and while Helesande was certainly implying that he was dishonourable, mere words were still not enough to be considered a provocation.

Helesande remained sitting across from him and stared at him without blinking. The smile was long gone from her face and her eyes had hardened to form chips of black onyx. The coldness in them dared him to retaliate and the confidence in her poise made it loud and clear that she wasn't the least bit intimidated by him or what he would do. It was enough to make Severus sick with rage. Her impudence, her arrogance, her sheer nerve to accuse him of something as petty as theft all twisted together to act as a buffer for his anger coiling in his stomach. His injury — which he was almost certain to have been caused by her — and all the incidences where she defied him time and again since he first laid eyes on her came crashing over him like a tidal wave, leaving him dizzy with fury.

Without warning, Severus whipped his wand up—

-Helesande's eyes narrowed-

—and slammed it down onto his desk.

Neither moved as Severus fought to restrain his urge to_ hurt_ the girl in front of him. His anger was almost tangible, feeding off him in waves.

"Get out."

His voice was low, soft, as though speaking any louder would undo him. It made him sound almost weak, though only a fool would think that of him as he stood there practically radiating with aggressive magic.

Helesande wisely said nothing as she came to her feet fluidly. For a short moment, her eyes lingered on his left hand, which Severus was aware was shaking lightly. But still she said nothing as she distanced herself from him and approached his office door, yet Severus's silent command for her to leave as quickly as possible was not heard as she paused with her hand on the serpentine brass knob.

"I will not stop until I have what I want. Professor or otherwise."

And she was gone.

Severus stood hunched over his desk, almost trembling with suppressed emotion. With one quick movement, he released his wand and grabbed the closest item to hand — his inkwell — and flung it with all his might at the door. The sharp sounds of the glass shattering against wood bounced around the stone walls of the room but did little to placate him. After that, only the silence of the dungeons answered as the black ink trailed down the door, seeping into the floor like liquid shadows.

**Author's Notes:** It's been forever, I know. And I am properly ashamed. But here it is, after eight months. The Burn-out Syndrome is still not all lifted but at least it's abating. This chapter took almost four months. And as sad as it is to say, I've actually lost direction with this fic… I don't know where I'm going… at least until before the Chamber showdown. I'm so hopeless…… Please review to give me more insight. Even flames are allowed. I had trouble channeling my inner Snape here so I need to know if I overdid him or something.

A thousand thanks to all my reviewers. You know who you are.

Until next chapter, have a nice day everyone!


	22. 21: Muggle Hair Product

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental. 

**Chapter 21 – Muggle Hair Product**

The door before him seemed ominous and ill-bearing. Shadows loomed before it, casting eerie trails of darkness across the thick wood, but Draco kept his face blank as he stared at the bronze knob, shaped like an uncoiled snake. It wasn't fear which gave him pause, but uncertainty. Knocking boldly, he quickly cast away all doubts as a harsh "Enter" was barked from inside. 

The potions master stared hard at him as he cautiously stepped into the office. Nothing had changed since the last time Draco had been there. The disgusting jars of intestines (probably) of various magical creatures still filled the shelves lining the walls and the scent, or rather, stink of rotten dead things lingered in the stale air. He always had the urge to wonder why the potions master didn't put more effort into making his office a bit more welcoming. That is, until he realized that was exactly what Severus wanted; to make his office seem as_un_-welcoming and as inhospitable as possible. 

"Mr.Malfoy." 

Pulling his attention back to the matter at hand, Draco noticed that his professor had a sharp quill perfectly poised above an essay and was looking at him expectantly, if not very patiently. 

"May I speak to you, professor?" 

Severus's stare turned blank for a moment before silently conjuring up a chair in front of his desk. Draco sat, quietly assessing his godfather. The past week had been hectic where the potions master was concerned. After the 'Snape Incident' as it was now known, Severus's foul temperament had reached an all time new level. He stalked from place to place like an offended hippogriff, ready to snap at a moment's notice. Slytherins and Gryffindors, staff and students alike learned to make themselves scarce whenever they saw him on the horizon. Draco was not suicidal enough to approach him until after a week, assuming he'd have scarred enough Hufflepuffs for life by then and wouldn't have any immediate overwhelming desire to inflict pain. 

"What is it you want, Mr.Malfoy?"

"How are you, godfather?"

Pause. "Well enough, considering."

A good start. "I was hoping to know your thoughts on recent happenings." 

The potions master leaned back slightly, black eyes trained on his godson. 

"By recent, I assume you mean the incident this past Monday?" 

Draco nodded, though it was clear his godfather had not asked a question. 

"I have my plans, Draco." 

Surprise. "You know who did it?" 

"I have my suspicions." 

'_As though that tells me anything.'_

Draco leaned forward. "It wasn't the Heir…… was it?" he asked hesitantly. 

Dark eyes narrowed at him. "Think before you speak, Draco. Do you really believe me an enemy to the Heir of Slytherin? That I am… _unworthy_?" 

Draco's eyes widened when he realized what his question had implied. "Of course not! I meant nothing of the sort. I… I just… that is…" 

"I am aware of what you meant Draco, but let me assure you when I say—" The potions master's gaze went to his left hand, now completely healed. "—that this 'incident' had nothing to do with the Heir." 

Draco watched as his godfather's stare became flat. He was tempted to just ask who the culprit was, if only to give him something to daydream about in History of Magic classes. No doubt some Gryffindork who had knocked his head against a wall one time to many. Draco could only imagine what Severus planned to do with him. 

"Conversely, …"

The potions master's razor-like attention was suddenly once again focused squarely on him. 

"What's this interest I see in the Heir of Slytherin? You have been told, both by Lucius and myself, to leave this matter be. Is there a need for me to watch you too, Draco?" 

Draco scowled lightly. "There haven't been any attacks since before Christmas. I was just curious." 

"Be that as it is, the business of the Heir is not your concern. If that is all you wanted to talk about, I suggest you spend your time on other things."

Draco gritted his teeth to stop himself from spitting out a retort. He knew he'd been told, but it's not like it's a crime to be curious. Besides, he wasn't anywhere near actively seeking out information about the Heir. And he didn't even know why he wasn't supposed to know about anything in the first place. He was so _sick_ of both his father and godfather acting like such pompous arses whenever the Heir was mentioned. 

"No, it's not!" 

Silence filled a gap in their conversation, partly because Draco was trying hard not to say anything that might further provoke his godfather. Severus for his part, did not show any change in expression. Several moments passed before the potions master once again prompted the Malfoy heir.

"Well?" 

"… I came to show you this." 

Draco reached into his robe and pulled out a tiny, glass vial. It was filled with colourless liquid which sloshed around like some sort of thin gel when the vial was shaken. 

"I found it several days ago on the seventh floor, near the astronomy tower." 

The potions master's eyes were all but spitting poison at the vial in Draco's hand. Whipping out his wand, he magically wretched the vial from his godson's fingers and began to pile spell upon spell on the poor object. 

"You imprudent,_foolish_ boy! Have you not an inkling of sense whatsoever? Exactly which part of your brain gave you the sheer, _ingenious_ idea to pick up an _unidentified_ object? I am quite certain it's not the same part which remembers that there's someone out there targeting gullible students such as yourself—" 

"I checked it!—"

"With what? 'detegere'? A patefacere charm? A mere talented fifth year would be perfectly capable of fooling such simple means of detection and said fifth year would also know enough spells to put you in the hospital wing for an _indefinite_ amount of time the moment you touched this vial! I had thought you more sensible, Draco." 

Blood rushed to Draco's head and he averted his face as he fought to keep his temper. 

'_It's okay. It's alright. Let him say it. As long as the result is what I intend. Focus, relax, breathe.' _

Draco sat quiet and contemplating as Severus continued to apply spell after spell of detection upon the vial. Out of the corner of his eyes, Draco watched his godfather work. He was sure the potions master would not find anything simply because he hadn't cast any spells on the vial after he had filled it with the sample he had taken. Besides a standard unbreakable charm, there was virtually no magic on the vial. Draco couldn't risk it since he didn't know what the colourless liquid was. That was the reason why he was even there in his godfather's office to begin with. 

After taking the jar from Helesande's room, Draco had had months to identify the mysterious liquid inside, but there weren't many books on colourless concoctions and as far as he could tell, none of them seemed to even resemble what he had. The only choice left was to ask Severus but there was virtually no way of asking him without raising his suspicion. Draco could only come up with this lackluster and completely unbelievable story to support his plan. This was actually the one time the Heir of Slytherin was truly useful to Draco. Without him and the threat of his monster looming over Hogwarts, Draco doubted Severus would have believed him so easily when he said he had found a vial of potion out of the blue. 

The potions master finally stopped casting spells on the vial, seemingly satisfied that there was no harmful magic on it. He set it upon his desk and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Draco warily but not angrily, perhaps appeased in knowing that his godson had not really picked up something dangerous. 

"I will say again how utterly thoughtless it was of you to have done such a thing, Draco. I am… disappointed." 

Draco scowled. "There wasn't anything on it." 

"This time. It might not be so next time. And there had better not be a next time. Though I am thankful that you had the insight to bring it to me before opening it yourself." Severus's back suddenly went rigid, eyes narrowing. "You _haven't_ opened it, have you?" 

Draco quickly shook his head. "No." 

The potions master relaxed. "Well…" His eyes traveled to the vial again. "Exactly what do you plan for me to do with this then? For all intents and purposes, this could be nothing more than some fourth year's muggle hair product." Disdain just about dripped from his tone as he considered the idea. 

Draco looked back at the vial. He hadn't thought about it that way… But somehow, he just refused to believe he had stolen a _mudblood hair product_ from a mudblood's room. Him, Draco Malfoy. It was unthinkable. 

"Could you perhaps find out what it really is?" 

At that moment, the potions master raised his head and their eyes connected. They stayed that way for several moments, neither saying anything. His godfather was staring at him without any expression, almost as though he was looking through him. It made Draco feel somewhat self-conscious. 

Just as Draco was about to open his mouth to ask if something was wrong, Severus averted his gaze and turned away from him. 

"You will be missed, Draco." 

Confounded by the sudden change of subject, Draco could only nod dumbly as he stood to move towards the door. 

"I'll leave it with you then. Thank you, godfather." 

The potions master made a vague dismissing gesture without looking at him and Draco frowned slightly in confusion as he stepped out of the office. 

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Ignorance.

A house elf. 

A slip of parchment. 

Severus clenched his left hand and swore. 

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn's eyes fluttered and closed in sheer, unbridled bliss as she lowered herself into the tub of delightfully searing water. A contented sigh escaped as she leaned her head back against the bathroom tiles. The hot soak was doing wonders to her tense muscles and she could feel the constant agitation, which had dogged her for almost a fortnight, dissipate like the rising fog around her. Silence prevailed for several moments as Djemn allowed herself to think nothing and just be. Then water rippled and splashed softly as she raised her arm to expose her left hand, tinged pink from the intense heat of the water.

'_The potions master does not seem too concerned with what I have told him._' 

Djemn curled and uncurled her fingers, momentarily fascinated with the movements made possible by her muscles and joints. Since her 'discussion' with her potions teacher more than a month ago, Snape had tried to make her life all the more horrible in his class. It was subtle enough that not many took notice of it but prominent enough that it had started to grate on her nerves. A person can only scrub a cauldron that many times. And how many potion vials can you label before your hand starts to cramp? Djemn lost count around her thousandth vial. But she never showed her discomfort to him, of course. For her, pain was easy to hide, especially if fueled by wrath. 

Djemn took a breath and submerged herself into the water. The heat pressed itself around her like a tight blanket and she began to do a reverse count in her head. 

_'100, 99, 98, 97, …'_

Even with the on-going little brawl she and her professor had started, thinking about the object he'd taken from her never failed to put her out. The 'Contagio Fragor' potion had taken her nearly three weeks to brew and even then, it was still in experimental stages. Being a beginner at potions meant that she could not trust her product to be completely correct. What's more, her objective was not the potion itself, but the applications she could derive from it. 

_'…81, 80, 79, …'_

She had chosen the simplest technique to test out the effectiveness of the potion without the need to sacrifice any of the brew or other materials; using it as a marinade. It was a method which took time, time she thought she had. Until she discovered it missing during her preparations to return home for the Christmas holidays. The knowledge that her favourite professor had had the gall to steal from her had gone hard with her. And it was partially the remembrance of those bitter feelings which spurned her to use such an aggressive first strike against him. 

Remembering almost made her smile. The execution of the attack had been beautiful. Thanatos had done very well. Though it was also thanks to her father for being able to supply her with such a large cube of pure sodium on such short notice. It was fitting really, an explosion in exchange for an explosive potion. The 'Contagio Fragor' was just one of many in the Fragor family of potions, all of which were designed to cause detonations, from miniscule to something reminiscing C-4 demolitions. The little explosion caused by the reaction between the sodium and water in the tea was nothing compared to what the 'Contagio Fragor' could do. One of the reasons why she was so disgruntled by its theft. Furthermore, it wasn't exactly legal, though if it really came down to it, she could argue that it was more border-line than anything. After that, a little invisibility spell and viola! Instant chemical grenade. 

_'…50, 49, 48, …'_

Other things have come to her attention as well. The Heir of Slytherin was taking a rather lengthy break from his self-proclaimed mission of ridding the school of the 'impure'. Professor Sprout had announced that the mandrakes will soon be ready for use and the overall atmosphere in Hogwarts was lighter. But Djemn could smell something rotten behind this fake relief. Her gut kept telling her that something was wrong, that something was going to happen soon. Jormungand had no insight on what it could be, seeing as he hadn't seen the Heir since before Christmas. It was really very odd. Though not as odd as the Gryffindor trio trying to solve the Chamber of Secrets mystery. They were scurrying around like a bunch of lost chicks following a headless mother hen. Djemn almost felt sorry for them. Almost. As it was, Hermione was still trying to get some information out of her about the chamber's monster after the Gryffindor had been released from the hospital wing sometime in early February. Frankly, Djemn was tired of repeating that she doesn't remember anything. 

Easter was approaching and Djemn had heard some of the older students telling the second years that they would have to choose their elective subjects soon. Thinking about choosing electives always gave Djemn a headache. Partly because she wanted to learn everything and partly because she was so damn good at everything. Her insatiable thirst for knowledge often landed her with latent stress problems and her ability to excel at everything meant that she had to choose very carefully lest she waste her time doing one thing when there were other subjects more suited for her. This would be the first time she would not be able to credit her father's counsel on subject selection and it was a weird but liberating feeling. Whatever she chose will determine the course of her education here at Hogwarts. So far, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures seem the most favourable choices. 

_'Whatever the dilemmas of next year, my priority is first of that which is in front of me. The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match would serve a good enough distraction.' _

_'…3, 2, …1!'_

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"Zabini." 

Blaise looked up as a Slytherin fourth year came striding towards him. Glancing around the common room, he noticed that though it was still relatively early, most of the students have already moved to their rooms rather than sit in the overcrowded lounge. Slytherins were space-zealous beings after all. With the new curfew, they probably felt suffocated being locked in after six. As for himself, Blaise had opted to do his homework in the common room because Theo had decided to take a nap before he went all out on a studying spree throughout the night. Theodore was just unique that way. 

"Yes?" 

"Professor Snape has asked to see you in the lab." 

"Right now?" 

The fourth year nodded and went off with his friends without another word. 

Blaise glanced down at his unfinished DADA essay and didn't even need to think before he rolled it up and stuffed it unceremoniously into his bag. Not knowing if his head of house required him to bring his own stationeries for whatever reason he was summoning him for, Blaise left for the potions laboratory with his school bag slung over his shoulder. 

The potions master was already waiting for him when he arrived. 

"Mr.Zabini. Come in and close the door."

The potions lab was empty but for the two of them. There were countless vials of potions placed on several desks at the front of the classroom. Blaise noticed that they were simple brews like the De-fevering Potion and Warts-Removal Potion. Glancing towards the teacher's desk, he saw his professor reading over a student's assignment before finally looking up at him. He gestured at the vials casually. 

"You will label each of those vials according to their identity and temperament. Being one of my more capable students, I trust this task will not pose too much of a difficulty to you." 

With that, the potions master promptly went back to his grading, ignoring the Zabini heir entirely. 

Blaise was, for lack of a better word, stumped. 

"Am I being punished, sir?" 

Truly, Blaise could not remember doing anything that would require him to be reprimanded, much less by his own head of house who was already infamous for being partial. 

The potions master looked back up again with only the faintest hint of annoyance on his face. "No Mr.Zabini, you are not. I am in need of some assistance and do not wish to have to be in constant misery by handing such a delicate task up to lumbering simpletons. As of the moment, you are the most viable candidate to do said task without my needing to look over my shoulder every few seconds." 

As his teacher looked away from him again, Blaise was still too dazed by the bizarre situation to come up with anything intelligent to say. He turned his gaze to the numerous potion vials waiting patiently for him and frowned in confusion. The potions master _never_ asked for assistance when it came to labeling and sorting his potions. That job was left for the unfortunate souls who were unlucky enough to receive detentions from him. Being who he was, the potions professor had never had a shortage of 'helpers'. Plus, why him of all people? While it was true that he was better than his yearmates when it came to potions — god forbid the Gryffindors ever coming close to such a large quantity of volatile substances —, he was nowhere good enough to be specifically selected for such an assignment. Surely there were older years more suited to this task. 

'_Then again, who am I to complain?' _

Shrugging lightly, Blaise dropped his bag onto a chair, taking out his inkwell and quill and began to 'assist' his professor. Peculiarities of the assignment aside, he supposed there wasn't really anything wrong with the potions master asking him to do a little extra lab work, no matter how uncertain the entire situation seemed. 

Nearly an hour and a half passed in undisturbed peace as Blaise continually worked in silence on naming and detailing each vial of potion. In all that time, Snape never once looked up at what he was doing, trusting him to be competent on his own. It was a bit inspiring really, to have the potions instructor have so much confidence in his skills. But at the same time, that left Blaise plenty of time to cater to his own thoughts. In other words, he was bored. The potions assigned to him were basic concoctions, requiring little to no thoughts on their properties. Sometime after his twentieth vial, Blaise's mind had begun to stray while his hands automatically continued with their work. 

Unlike the majority of the school population, Blaise was not all that concerned with the Heir of Slytherin, as were all his other housemates. Sure, he, she or it was a threat but only vaguely so if one knew how to be careful. Smart students would understand that the danger was minimal when they moved in ordered groups and as Slytherins, they have always done that. Order and the ability to analyze situations have saved their skins more than once and those who did not learn quickly deserve to be discarded. The other houses condemn them because the monster was supposedly from their own house and wouldn't attack them. It was a load of cock and bull as far as Blaise was concerned. It never once occurred to them that perhaps the reason why no Slytherin — barring Helesande but hers was an unresolved case as of yet — had been attacked by the monster was because they were quick enough and sharp enough to know the dangers and risks the moment trouble was thrown in their faces. Cowardice was, after all, a word the foolish used to call strategic retreats and necessary caution. 

No, Blaise's thoughts were elsewhere. The Christmas holidays had given him much to think about, particularly in matters regarding his family. Even after more than two months have passed, the tension he had felt back at Zabini Mansion was still fresh on his mind. Not to say that there had been fights. In fact, Blaise would have preferred that there were instead of the cold indifference he had felt from his parents regarding one another. His mother had acted as if his father had died an eternity ago and couldn't be bothered to even remember his name while his father acted like he had never gotten married in the first place. Between them was Blaise, torn between his mother who had always been more affectionate towards him and his father, who was no doubt the more realistic choice in the long run. In the end, he had kept away from either of them, not wanting or willing to be in their presence lest they use him as a barometer to decide who the better parent was. 

He had always known that his was not the ideal household but he had lived with that knowledge, having known no other type of family. His mother's many lovers and his father constant absence wasn't something which bothered him because it had been that way all his life. The relationship between his parents had always been platonic at best and non-existent at worst. Then, this break started. It felt like a cold war now, with a blizzard raging in the background whenever his parents encountered one another in the same room. Blaise had no idea what had triggered this sudden change. As far as he knew, neither of his parents cared what (or who) the other did in his or her absence. It was an arrangement abided by both sides for more than a decade. But now even the house elves could tell that their master and mistress _'weren't on the best of terms'_. 

Blaise wanted to say that he didn't care either way. That he couldn't care less if his parents broke apart completely. But he did. It had come as a surprise to him. He had always thought that the only thing he truly felt for his parents was apathy. After all, they were never there for him when he grew up, never there when he was young and needed to understand what the warmth of family was. They were his sire and dam, his genitors, his parents only in the sense of biological definition. He did not long to make his father proud nor for his mother to embrace him with love. But he also didn't want them to split up. It was confusing. He knew he didn't love them, didn't love them nearly enough to try and patch them back together. But a sense of_something_ tugged in his heart every time he made to think that everything in his family was going to change now. Perhaps it was aversion to the changes that were bound to come. Perhaps his inner self was saying this newest development was something that was severely not needed in his life at the moment. Or perhaps he cared more about his parents than he was willing to acknowledge. 

Whatever it was, Blaise didn't have nearly enough time, patience or discipline to let such thoughts run rampant in his mind. He had enough issues in his own life to worry about than what Mr. and Mrs.Zabini was planning to do about their marriage. If divorce was on they way, so be it. It wasn't as though he could stop them either way. 

Blaise paused, jerking out of his thoughts, when he realized that he had finished. Glancing to his left where he had placed the post-labeled vials, he estimated that there must be at least a hundred there. Turning back, he was about to tell his professor that he was done when one last unlabeled vial caught his eye. It was easy to see how he'd missed it. It was small and colourless, an inconspicuous little thing which had no doubt been hidden earlier among the bigger vials. Blinking slightly in confusion, Blaise picked it up and held it in the light. 

The potion inside was clear and colourless with only the slightest tinge of green when he held it in the right angle of a path of light. He had only seen a handful of potions which were similar and while comparable, this one certainly didn't look like any of them. 

"Professor, I'm not quite certain about this potion." 

The potions master looked up at him. Upon seeing the vial in his hand, recognition sparked in his eyes. 

"Ah, so there it is." 

Putting up his quill, Snape stood and walked over to him, taking the tiny vial from his hand. 

"I have been looking for this. It is very likely I misplaced it when I was setting up the vials earlier." 

Seeing his curiosity, his professor looked past the vial at him. "What do you think it is, Mr.Zabini?" 

Blaise paused. "Well, it looks like Flesh Filling Gel but the slight greenish tinge suggests that it's not." 

"Correct, it is not. What else?" 

Getting more and more confused by the second, Blaise racked his brains for a plausible potion which might fit the description of the concoction held in front of him. 

"Um… some sort of healing salve?" 

"No, Mr.Zabini. This potion is not medically related. It is, in fact, very destructive." 

The potions master paused, looking at him with a strange expression. 

"A single drop, or even the most minuscule amount can cause devastation of any material be it stone, metal or… skin. Used on humans, it can cause both your internal and external organs to spontaneously _combust_."

Something was wrong. The potions master was looking at him strangely. Blaise's eyes went back to the vial. The unremarkable potion in it looked harmless but if what Snape said was true… But what did that have to do with him? Why was his head of house looking at him that way? He had never seen that potion before… had he? 

Blaise almost didn't manage to contain his jolt of realization. 

'_But… How? How did… Why is it… What in Salazar's name is happening?!' _

"Such a dangerous but useful potion, is it not? Perhaps I should put it away, back where it belongs,… before someone gets hurt." 

Those black eyes were hard and sharp and it was all Blaise could do to resist swallowing. He gently averted his gaze. 

"Yes." 

Snape stared at him a moment longer, eyes boring into the side of his face, the tiny vial balanced precariously between his right index finger and thumb. 

"You may go, Mr.Zabini." 

Blaise silently gathered his things and left, all the while feeling that heavy gaze on his back. 

'_He knows.'_

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"—do something!" 

"Like what? March right up to him and push the jar into his hands? You're not even certain if he truly knows or not!" 

Blaise narrowed his eyes at Draco, irritation shining in the teal coloured orbs. 

"Use your head Draco, you're a Slytherin. Would _Snape_ do something like this if he was just _partially_ convinced that we had anything to do with it?" Here, he leveled a haughty look at his blond companion. "You're his godson, you should know." 

Draco's face flushed and he bit back a retort, knowing that his friend's words rang true. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from Blaise and sat heavily on his bed. The two of them were alone in his room. Blaise had barged in without any prior warning several minutes ago and proceeded to glare at him like he wasn't worth two knuts. Needless to say, Draco hadn't been very pleased. 

"Why did you give him a sample anyway? And why, in Merlin's name, didn't you tell me about it? It's as good as exposing everything! We agreed that we would be the only ones in on this. Did you forget exactly who it was who placed the locking spells on Helesande's door in the first place? Merlin, what were you thinking?" 

Draco head finally snapped around. "We'll never be able to find out what the blasted potion is without his help. Face it Blaise, we've tried everything! And I didn't tell him anything! Maybe you're just reading this wrongly. Severus hasn't said anything to me about this." 

A scowl tugged on Blaise's lips. "He wouldn't." 

Draco sneered and turned away. He knew what Blaise was hinting at. Even though the potions master favoured his Slytherins more than any other house, almost everyone knew that Draco was regarded above the rest. He was his godson, it was natural. 

"Go away, Zabini." 

There was a short moment of silence. And Draco didn't turn back around until he heard the loud bang of his door slamming shut. 

Blaise stormed away, eyes narrowed in anger. 

'_If he's not going to do something about it, _I_ will.'_

**Author's Note:** Three months this time, not so bad eh? Who am I kidding… Good news is, by the end of the next chapter, I'm going to bring the story into the chamber showdown so you guys can expect a bit more action. About this chapter, you'll notice that, like Theodore, I have altered Blaise's history. His parents are still alive and together… for the moment anyway. Please review and criticize if you think I didn't do the characters justice. 

Thanks to all reviewers! 

Until next chapter, have a nice day everyone! 


	23. 22: Game's Up

**Hogwarts Mareschal**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 22 – Game's Up**

Kazutaka's eyes flitted from line to line, efficiently dissecting the document before him. The monitor's glow reflected off his silver-rimmed spectacles eerily in the dark laboratory. It was late, perhaps 3 am, but time mattered little to him at that moment.

He almost had them.

After months of looking, weeks of digging up medical records and countless days of checking and cross checking information, ten painfully selected subjects have been chosen. Their profiles blinked at him innocently on the screen, women with no idea they were about to be given a task so forbidden it would condemn Kazutaka to several lifetimes in jail if it succeeded. That, or the electric chair. It was almost certainly the most difficult and most taboo experiment he had had the gall to endeavor.

The scientist looked across the room to the large incubator sitting conspicuously beside his observation desk. Its metal protectors obscured outside view, but the mere thought of what was maturing inside was enough to make Kazutaka's eyes soften with fondness.

Yes, if anyone found out, they wouldn't hesitate to condemn him to a most horrible death.

Especially the General.

Soft chuckles escaped Kazutaka's lips as he thought of the Genreal's reaction once he learns of this covert experimentation.

'_He would gut me alive and feed me to those favoured snakes of his. Of course, that is assuming the mere concept of this disgusts him. But one can never know with the General. Sometimes when I think I have finally understood him, he turns around and surprises me. Just like when he brought my dear Puppet into the facility. Perhaps he may even approve of this research. Especially if it succeeds……' _

Kazutaka's eyes drifted to the incubator again. His voice slid across the dark room in a sinister promise.

"Soon, my Puppets. Soon."

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Blaise was pretty sure his distaste was evident on his face, but he cared little for concealing it at the moment. The door in front of him had flowers enchanted into the wood texture. They were huge. And they were pink.

'_I'm beginning to think this isn't such a brilliant idea after all. But between this and the alternative, I suppose this is the lesser of two evils… Probably.' _

Blaise sighed. It was too late to rethink his decision now. Besides, there was no other fool idiot enough to go through with this plan, barring the pathetic excuse of a wizard behind that door.

Taking a deep breath and mentally cursing Draco for the umpteenth time, the Zabini heir gathered the resolve and energy to put on a bright smile as he knocked firmly on the door. He had no inkling that in several minutes time, that resolve will be tested to the limits.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"— but neither side had intent to surrender. The Malina clan held firm in the belief that the Nat'lps would eventually submit to their magically stronger army, despite their smaller numbers—"

The soft scratching of Djemn's quill on her parchment went unheard beneath the constant droning of Professor Binns which, in turn, was barely audible over the loud snores of the sleeping students. It was a Slytherin-Hufflepuff History of Magic class, and she could care less if the rest of the students decided to dress up in cat-suits and perform Letkajenkka. Then again, she might care seeing as it would be quite a sight to see twenty odd cat-people kicking and leaping. No, on this day, her mind was preoccupied with other things.

The Heir of Slytherin was back.

And he couldn't have picked a worse time to announce his return. Irritation caused Djemn's writing to hasten ever so slightly. Just last Saturday, the whole school had gathered in the Quidditch stadium as always, awaiting the anticipated Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Like before, Djemn was off with her own designs, this time planning another 'present' for her favourite professor. She had barely started before echoes of Professor McGonagall's magnified voice resounded through the castle walls. She had barely been able to hear what was being said, but what she _had_ heard, told her enough. Within minutes, scores of students had marched their way back into the castle, practically vibrating with suppressed curiosity. With careful maneuvering, she had been able to blend into the crowd and return to her dormitory, previous plans forcibly aborted. By dinner that night, the whole school had heard about the return of the Heir and his subsequent shocking attack on two students, Hermione Granger being one of them.

Now this, in itself, was not anything bad as far as Djemn was concerned. The girl had become more than a bit of an annoyance to her with her constant pestering. What made the news unpleasant was the fact that the remainder of the Golden Trio had taken up Granger's self-incited duty in questioning Djemn in a bid to find the culprit and help their friend. It made Djemn wonder if the Slytherins hadn't had it wrong all along, that Gryffindors were a bit … slow in the up-taking. And that was putting it kindly. Whatever the case, after the ninth time of repeating herself, she had given them a thoroughly irritated look in the form of an icy glare and stalked off without another word. They hadn't bothered her since.

With that, her instinct had been proven right yet again. The Heir was back with a nasty vengeance and it wouldn't be long now before something drastic happened. The most radical change thus far was the abandonment of Dumbledore on the night of the Heir's attack, after the alleged arrest of the game-keeper, Hagrid. Djemn had been most intrigued when she heard about it at dinner. She hadn't taken the old headmaster for a coward, but one glimpse at Malfoy's pale, smirking face had answered everything. She knew all about Hogwarts board of school governors, who were on it, and it didn't take a genius to guess what had happened. It almost seems too easy now.

One of the sleeping students gave a soft whimper, perhaps in the throes of a nightmare, but Djemn never once paused in her writing. He wouldn't be the first one and it wasn't surprising that the students should feel fear even in their sleep, considering the state of the school after the headmaster had left. Even some of the Slytherins had been affected by the grim atmosphere. Those who were not so sure of their assumed immunity to the attacks had become slightly more cautious in their movements, though, to the tip-toeing students of the other houses, they probably seem nonchalant. Djemn herself had had her share of doubtful glances sent her way, but as always, she ignored them. By now, she had mostly been written off the radar for suspicious people thanks in no small part to her continuous act of being dreadfully unremarkable. Honestly, it was vexing work but at least it paid off. Her head of house on the other hand…

Snape hadn't given her an inch. If anything, after the attack, he had taken an even more avid watch on her. With her failed plan during the Quidditch match, it was still his turn to move and so far, he was satisfied to simply do nothing but make her life wretched in class. Yet, it was alright because patience was one of the games her father liked to play with her. She just had to keep her position, passively defensive but increasingly offensive, until one of them broke under the pressure. She'd admit that the professor was older and probably had more experience than her when it came to this game, but she was no amateur herself. It wouldn't take long now. In fact, it was better if this 'disagreement' between them was solved as soon as possible. There were other, more pressing, matters she had to address.

The Heir. His intentions were still unclear and with his recent actions pushing her hand, she was well aware that their impending meeting would soon have to occur, for her own sake. Whether she liked it or not, she was as eligible a target as everyone else and if there's anything she was good at, it was to take herself off the list of expendables. She liked to think that her life expectancy was in her own hands, and no one else's. To do such, all threats had to be eliminated or neutralized. In this case, Djemn was hoping for neutralization. Jormungand was too much of a gem (no pun intended) to be wasted on a dispute, but if push came to shove, she would be ready. Hopefully, with any luck and if she played her words right, she might just gain her first ally in the wizarding world.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

"—known for their mysterious ability to sense _suspicious _or_ seedy_ characters. Now, I feel I must tell you that they are extremely intelligent and _dangerous_ creatures — Not something one should trifle with. And indeed, there have been reported cases where a kneazle delivered_ debilitating_ wounds upon their owner's enemies. There is, of course, a variety of spells one can use to handle them, should you find yourself in a situation where the need arises, without causing the kneazle any harm. The most popular ones are the stupefying spell and the petrifying spell. But if that fails, never fear, because Gilderoy Lockhart will always be there to save you."

The blond professor finished with a small puff of his chest and a saucy wink for the female population of the class. Blaise mentally praised himself when he managed to effectively hide his sneer.

"Now, let's see who's up for a real-life confrontation. I'll need someone to help me demonstrate exactly how one should defend against a ferocious kneazle in action. Normally, I wouldn't suggest this but seeing as your class has been behaving splendidly, the best among your year in fact, I thought that a treat would be appropriate. Don't you worry, just use the techniques I've taught you, there'll be no problem at all! Any volunteers?"

Blaise scoffed silently. _'What techniques?! You've barely taught us how to differentiate a gorilla from a yeti!' _

Lockhart glanced expectantly around the silent class. The girls suddenly looked more nervous than they were earlier and the boys just found the desks and walls too interesting to tear their eyes away. Potter especially seemed to melt right into his chair. The professor deflated slightly. Ever since the 'Pixie Incident', no one really felt like doing any practical work with Lockhart in DADA anymore. One could only wonder why.

'_Oh come on, you big oaf!' _

The man continued to glance around hopefully, his smile diminishing bit by bit until his eyes alighted on a small figure sitting in the front row, to the left of the class. Helesande was, surprisingly, not reading another textbook and actually looked as though she was day-dreaming while gazing out the cloudy window next to her.

"Miss Helesande? How about you?"

Blaise's previous assumption about Helesande day-dreaming was nicely tossed out of the window the moment the person in question mechanically rotated her head to stare head-on at the professor. Several moments slugged past as Blaise carefully watched the icy stare-off between student and teacher. Lockhart's smile faltered several times but unlike his previous encounters with Helesande, he didn't relent this time.

Helesande did not look impressed. In fact, if Blaise had to describe her expression, she did not look even remotely interested in the idiot blonde professor's existence at all. But perhaps it was his faux bravery, or perhaps Helesande really was as bored as she looked, for she indulged him.

Suddenly the whole class was very much interested as she stood to move to the front of the class.

'_Probably anticipating some excitement. No matter, it's exactly what I'd hoped for.' _

With the class's attention focused on Helesande and the kneazle, Blaise casually reached into his bag and removed a single, transparent glass jar……

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Harry watched a tad uneasily as Djemn rose and walked towards Lockhart. A soft mew came from the cage placed next to the teacher's desk, the cloth covering it rustling lightly. An image of a similar cage flashed through his mind and the black haired boy shuddered slightly in remembrance. The memory of what happened the last time the blond professor had tried to 'demonstrate' was still vividly clear in his mind's eye. It was a disaster he was not looking forward to repeating.

'_I really hope Djemn already knows how to do those spells.' _

He supposed his relationship with the Slytherin was an odd one. They were 'sort of' friends and at the same time, not really. He, Ron and Hermione virtually never spend any time with her outside of classes and neither had ever bothered to put forth more effort to bring the friendship closer. On the other hand, she was always civil and decent towards them, accommodating when she could be and never unkind. Though there was always a feel of indifference to her, she never ostracized them like the rest of the snake house. Harry would admit that he wasn't the most observant of people, but if he had to describe Djemn's attitude towards others, he would say that she was ostensibly tolerant and… well, she acknowledged the lives of those around her but that was it. She was smart, as smart as Hermione and he would bet as hardworking too, but she didn't seem inclined to develop stronger relationships with other people. She had very few friends and Harry had only ever seen her talk to some Ravenclaws and older Hufflepuffs in passing. She definitely didn't have friends in her Slytherin yearmates; she and Draco can't stand each other and naturally, Malfoy's posse ensures that the rest of their house agrees with him. Harry was almost never bothered by Draco now, the blond boy having found another target.

Sometimes he wondered why Djemn wasn't sorted as a Ravenclaw instead; she definitely fit the type – quiet, studious, hardworking but not as socially inclined as the 'puffs. But that line of thought always led Harry back to the circumstances of his own sorting so he never delved too much into it. Hermione seemed to have a deeper opinion of the quiet Slytherin. She was inclined to believe that Djemn knew more than what she let on. Both Harry and Ron hadn't said much to that. Immediately after Hermione's petrification though, Harry had been so desperate for any sort of clue, he'd taken Hermione's suspicions to heart and tried to worm some information from Djemn. That hadn't worked out so well.

Harry watched as Djemn stopped several feet from the cloth covered cage, wand out. Professor Lockhart danced around his desk and muttered several more warnings to the class, stressing again how dangerous the kneazle was. Harry didn't know if he should believe him. Seeing that he was losing their interest fast, the blonde teacher hastily, and finally, lifted the cloth and the class was treated to the sight of a black and brown spotted cat with a lion's tail swishing back and forth.

Almost immediately, soft coos came from the girls. Cries of "How cute!" and "Aww~!" dominated the quiet chatter of the classroom. Next to Harry, Ron made a soft gagging noise at the girls' reactions before turning apprehensive once more when Lockhart approached the cage.

The kneazle must have felt the difference in atmosphere as its tail stopped swishing and it began to study the surroundings warily. When its gaze landed on Djemn, it began to hiss agitatedly. The students nearest to the cage glanced nervously between the creature and the Slytherin. Further away in the back of the classroom, Harry was slightly confused at the animal's response. As far as he knew, Djemn was as lukewarm and as apathetic as anyone could get. Definitely not someone suspicious in any way. Was Lockhart really that bad of a teacher that he got his facts wrong or did Hermione's theories have some grain of truth to them?

Harry watched attentively as Djemn readied her wand by her side. Inside the cage, the kneazle was close to spitting now. Lockhart gave one more nervous forewarning before unlocking the cage. And the kneazle instantaneously became a ball of black and brown hurdling through the air towards Djemn.

"Petrificus totalus."

The class watched in silent disbelief as Djemn uttered the spell almost lazily and bound the kneazle's propelling body in mid-air. The cat-like creature slammed to a stop and fell like a large furry stone to the floor with a soft thud. The entire encounter had lasted a mere three or four seconds. When it seemed that the professor wasn't going to move any time soon, Djemn about-faced nonchalantly and began to walk back to her seat.

At that moment, dazed and coupled with his perhaps inherent absent-mindedness, Lockhart did something tantamount to releasing a flock of pixies in the classroom. Again. He un-petrified the kneazle _before_ he'd placed it back into its cage.

With a loud, angry yowl, the kneazle recovered quickly from his temporary bind and immediately leaped up at Djemn's unprotected back. Two of the girls seated at the front row shrieked shrilly at the kneazle's sudden aggression. In fact, Harry could see quite clearly how terrifying a cat could be when properly angered. The kneazle was flying through the air with its front paws extended, gleaming claws fully unsheathed and a truly twisted cat-expression on its features. For everyone in the classroom, time almost seemed to slow as the creature's piercing claws drew ever closer to Djemn. And then…

Harry would later reflect that his classmates and he only saw the following exchange as fully as they did because they had all been so shell-shocked and alarmed that their eyes had been wide open.

When the kneazle was within only a foot from Djemn's back, the Slytherin half-spun in a haste induced blur, leaned back, and _**kicked**_. Her foot slammed into the feline, a powerful and direct, thrusting hit to the kneazle's chest. The creature rebounded, its body twisting almost grotesquely, and shot across the classroom like one of Filibuster's fireworks. It smashed brutally into the blackboard with a resounding

**SMACK!!!**

before falling limply onto the floor.

By the time everyone recovered most of their wits, Djemn was pulling back her extended left leg. She gave one look of pure contempt towards the professor and returned to her seat without a word.

It took several more moments before anyone could formulate a full sentence. Then voices exploded all at once. Questions hurled across tables and whispers were ripe in the air. Nearly the entire classroom was giving Djemn outright stares. Stares which she ignored in favour of watching snow melt outside the window.

Harry was simply flabbergasted. Beside him, Ron's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly before muttering a low "Bloody hell.". And he was not the only one who was thinking along the same lines. Many of the Gryffindors were eying Djemn with tentative and suspicious glances while the Slytherins were watching her speculatively. Professor Lockhart was being the idiot that he was and stood stock still and speechless in front of the class. It was only when one girl prodded him nervously that he jerked out of his daze and mumbled to the class that they were to write notes for the rest of the period.

The remaining twenty minutes of class was spent in a silent buzz and the occasional peek at Djemn who, as usual, ignored the rest of the world.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn glared.

The jar did not move. Nor did it spontaneously started to explain its leave of absence.

She felt the features of her face twisting and a moment later, she was reduced to scowling at said jar.

It still did not move.

Turning away, the Slytherin shifted her burning gaze onto the stone walls of her room.

It didn't make any sense. The jar hadn't been there when she'd left History of Magic but somehow, there it was when she'd returned to her dorm and opened her bag. Sitting so innocently between her neatly arranged parchment and quills, its presence was a mockery to her.

She had searched _everywhere_ when it had gone missing; there was no possible way she would have missed it, especially in her bag of all places. The jar, now placed on her desk, looked exactly the same as before it had been taken. Colourless, translucent fluid with a green tinge when the surface reflected the dim candle light. A deadly liquid designed for destruction.

If she was honest with herself, Djemn knew that she was avoiding thinking about 'who' by focusing more on 'how'. Yes, it was important to know how someone had managed such a feat, especially since her bag was already constantly protected by spells and herself. She never left it open for inspection and never left her bag alone long enough to give someone the opportunity to rummage through it……

Djemn's eyes narrowed. Lockhart's class. During the 'demonstration'— if she would even deign to call it that —, she'd been away from her bag long enough for someone to slip something inside unnoticeably. The Slytherin made a sound in the back of her throat when she recalled that she had put spells on her bag to prevent people from taking things _out_ but not from putting things _in_. An oversight on her part, she will admit. But that only brought more questions. Assuming that it was during DADA that the incident occurred, it would then limit the number of suspects to the people in the immediate vicinity of her seat. Which meant the handful of Slytherins around her. No, that wasn't right. Someone could have used a Levitation charm from across the room. Nonetheless, it was the work of someone in the classroom at the time.

And that excluded Professor Snape.

Djemn didn't like what her logic was telling her. In all possibilities, it couldn't have been the potions master who'd put the jar back in her bag. She didn't even have his class earlier in the day. But he _was_ the only one who had had access to her room during her absence before Christmas. It didn't add up. Perhaps he'd gotten someone to do this for him? Another Slytherin? Not likely. The man didn't seem like someone who would trust a matter this delicate to a scatterbrained child, even if they were Slytherins. So if he didn't do it, and it's unlikely that he'd ordered someone else to do it, …… who did? And how did they even know about the 'Contagio Fragor'? Questions, questions……

Djemn exhaled slowly and sat cross-legged on her bed. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to relax and look at all the facts slowly. She didn't reach Perspicacity, didn't need it for something like this, but it was close. A calm state of mind where she examined things without judgment. She went about it backwards, starting from the day's afternoon.

DADA had been a bore. Lockhart had been droning on and on about a kneazle of all things. The creature was nowhere near the status of unsafe let alone dangerous. Djemn had been content to let the blond idiot make a fool out of himself, and when he'd asked for a demonstration, she was sure that things were only going to plummet down to the level of Hogwarts' stone cold dungeons. Nevertheless, she had been somewhat surprised when he'd picked her. She'd stared down the buffoon enough times that he knew better than to circle her out in class. When he didn't cringe or cower away from her frigid stare, she'd decided to humour him. It was better than creating a hole in her skull in boredom, or at least that's what she had thought.

The kneazle had not been too happy to see her. Djemn could only wonder as to why, though it probably had to do with the fact that she was a dog person. Or the fact that she was hiding enough secrets to confuse the hell out of an average individual. When the creature was finally released, she'd petrified the thing on autopilot. What she did not expect was for that thrice damned imbecile to free the darned cat before he'd properly secured it.

When her instincts had screamed 'DANGER!' approaching from behind, she'd reacted without thinking. A sideways mawashi-geri was delivered before she recalled enough to pull back some of her strength. Still, the cat flew and slammed into the blackboard like a spring-powered projectile. She didn't feel too bad about that. The animal _had_ been trying to attack her. What she was somewhat irked about was the fact that she'd acted in view of her classmates. And there went all her efforts of being inconspicuous. That little show probably set her back several months. Yet, it wasn't what was bothering her right now.

The potion. She'd established that it was probably placed in her bag during her 'demonstration' in DADA. It was a very small timeframe with no room for mistakes and required a strong focus, not to mention confidence to be able to pull it off in a room full of children. Then again, it was probably made easy when everyone except the culprit was concentrating on her. Based on these observations, Djemn had an inkling that the culprit was unlikely a Gryffindor. Not to encourage the centuries old prejudice but from what she'd observed of her classmates, the lions weren't exactly the sort to be able to carry out covert plans. Plus, the Gryffindors had been sitting on the opposite side of the room. It would have been extremely difficult to get something as large as a glass jar across that space without someone noticing, even with a distraction. That said, it was a different case for a Slytherin. They were nearer, sneakier, and frankly, more skilled in all areas due to their ambitious nature. Excluding the Gryffindors and that oblivious buffoon Lockhart, one or more of the Slytherins were the likeliest perpetrator/s.

That was as far as she could narrow down the suspects, but it was enough to bring Djemn to the root of the problem. If one of the Slyterins did it and it was highly doubtful that Professor Snape would have trusted such a deadly object — and Djemn knew that the professor would know _exactly_ what it was — to a student……

'_What is this picture I'm seeing?' _

One: Professor Snape took the jar from her room. Two: a Slytherin student put the jar back in her bag. These events were mutually exclusive. Either Snape took the jar and then returned it, or…… And as far as she knew, he was not the person who did. Did that mean that _someone else_ took the jar all those months ago? It would certainly back up Snape's story, that he was ignorant of the crime he had supposedly committed. Was it possible that she had blown up an innocent man's hand?

'……… _Oops.' _

Regardless, if Snape really was innocent, there was the issue of how someone else had infiltrated her room. Though, it was not much of a concern anymore, with her new security measures. Then there was the question of why the culprit had decided to return the jar, if they had gone so far as to steal it in the first place. And did it have anything at all to do with Professor Snape? Her little petty war with the man was not open to outside knowledge. The real perpetrators would not have known that she was pressuring him. Then again, if the culprit was a Slytherin, it was possible that the potions master had found out who it was then forced them to stop playing with fire.

A probable explanation. But she had no proof. And she still didn't know who had done it.

Djemn opened her eyes and saw the candle light glinting off the side of the jar.

Damn it all. She didn't have time to ponder over this. The 'Contagio Fragor' was back, with nothing to indicate that it had been tampered with. And she probably owed Professor Snape an apology, along with a long talk/interrogation. But other than that, nothing about this situation required her immediate attention, unlike the other scenario playing about in her head. A scenario which involved her being swallowed whole by Jormoungand like that piece of goat she'd gifted him with if she didn't do something to resolve this Heir business. And soon.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn yawned.

It's been three days and she was still getting nowhere. The bleached parchment cracked slightly as she turned a page. This was the fifth book she was reading but so far, she'd found nothing to her specifics. Yet.

Djemn had reasoned that, since she did not intend to fight the Heir head-on, they only way to go was to have leverage over him. This was made very difficult by the fact that she didn't know his identity. Most of the time, people were easy to influence if one had a strong hold over their personal connections. Family, friends, beloved objects, and the like. But without even knowing his name, that tactic was indubitably out of the question. So, she had turned to something she was sure the Heir would hold in high importance. Something he would not let flow out of his grasp.

Knowledge. And not just any knowledge. Knowledge passed on by his ancestor, the venerated Salazar Slytherin. In other words, Djemn was holding the heart of the Chamber of Secrets, the secret room within the secret chamber, as hostage. Jormungand had confirmed that the Heir knew nothing about it and as long as it stayed entirely at Djemn's disposal, he cannot harm her for fear of losing access to that knowledge. Here, she was making the assumption that the Heir was someone who would understand how much all that information was worth. If he wasn't, then she supposed he wasn't worth her time either. Now, she only needed to make it so that he can't turn around and backstab her one day.

Djemn felt the urge to yawn again but simply sighed. The first part of her plan had been simple enough. Using only one day, she had found a suitable spell to strengthen the walls around the room and made them impenetrable, whether by magical or muggle means, leaving only the sole door as the entry and exit point. The next part of her plan however, was coming along not so well. She'd spent the last three days looking over book after book for an apposite spell to bar the room and make it accessible to only herself. Hitherto, it was proving to be more difficult than she had imagined. Salazar's books offered so many solutions, all with their different intricacies, yet none of them were perfect for her designs. She'd spent the last few days pouring over the ancient texts with little breaks in between because she knew that time was running short. Even Jormungand seemed to think so. Before this, when she'd risked a short visit to him, the serpent had said that he could taste tension and anticipation ripe in the air, even so deep in the bowels of Hogwarts. Something was going to happen soon.

And then she saw it.

It was a blood ritual. A severe one which power varied according to the size of the warding and the potency of the protection needed. It created a link between the caster and the cast, enabling the caster to be the only one with the ability to grant access to the area the ritual encompassed. In many ways, it was like a standard home-warding spell used by many magical families. But this ritual limited the power to only one person and should death befall upon this person, the ritual will jealously rip all the magic from the caster's core and use it to solidify the ward, sealing the room permanently.

It was vicious. It was perfect. It was called Meus Eternus.

Djemn smiled.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn stared at the plant in front of her. Purplish greenish leaves grew in tufts on top of thick and bulbous but smooth branches. The pot before her was of a medium size, big enough to plant several carrots comfortably. But it wasn't carrots entrenched within the soil.

She remembered her first time repotting a mandrake. Her classmates were making large messes of themselves with soil flying everywhere as the young mandrakes and mandragoras struggled like there was no tomorrow. Djemn hadn't understood what all the fuss was. Of course, the little tot attached to the bottom of her plant was wailing and kicking like a donkey as well, but she'd soon showed the seedling who was God in their little scuffle. Securing a tight hold on her mandrake, she had wrapped her fingers around the green babe's short neck and _squeezed_ till it understood that if it wanted to live, it must behave. After that, it was smooth repotting throughout her mandrake's growth.

Djemn reached out several fingers to tenderly caress the large leaves. Her mandrake was maturing healthily and, according to Madam Sprout, was near adulthood. In fact, the Herbology professor was planning to cut some of the humanoid plants to use in reviving the petrified people in the Hospital Wing later tonight. Which meant only one thing.

It was happening today.

Djemn knew the Heir wasn't stupid. He wouldn't let those people regain consciousness. It would reveal and ruin too much. Which meant that he would act before anyone had the chance to dole out the antidote to the petrifications. It was already the second class of the day, sometime mid-morning. He had less than nine hours to carry out whatever devious plan he had before the game was up.

Djemn glanced around at her fellow Slytherins sometimes interspaced by a Ravenclaw or two. She'd never really given much thought or speculation to it before, but how likely was it that the Heir was one of her housemates? The probability was very high. Then again, there's also Ginny Weasley to think about. How was she related to the Heir? No matter what sort of relationship they had, it must be pretty impressive if he could convince an eleven year old girl, a Gryffindor to boot, to strangle chickens for him. After she'd returned from Christmas, Djemn had kept an occasional eye out for the young Gryffindor between her own activities but the girl had seemed even more withdrawn and confused than prior to the holidays.

Before Djemn could think more on fanatical conspiracies and mentally unbalanced children, what she could recognize as the deputy headmistress's voice came booming across the grounds.

"All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike raised their heads from their Herbology notes. Confused glances were exchanged between friends and tentative whispers started to emerge in the quiet greenhouse.

Madam Sprout clapped twice loudly. "All right then, class. You heard the announcement. Gather your things. Back to your dormitories at once!"

The professor was doing an admirable job of hiding her own uncertainty and apprehension but Djemn could expertly pick up the signs. The tension lines in her face, the minor shift in her normal speaking tone. The adults obviously had been expecting something like this to happen for some time now. And Djemn knew even as she slowly made her way back to her common room with her housemates.

It was happening now.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

The common room was packed. It seemed nearly everyone was just as curious and anxious about what had happened. So far, no one knew any details, which made the air ripe for rumours and gossip.

Djemn was reclined in an armchair at a corner of the room. She was perhaps one of the only second years seated in actual furniture. Most of the other furnishings were commandeered by the upper years who had mercilessly bullied the younger students into giving theirs up. No one approached Djemn though. Word about her actions during DADA last week had gotten out and while most seemed to not care about it, she occasionally caught a curious glance or two sent her way by an older housemate. Not to mention, she was sure some people still harboured suspicions about her being the Heir of Slytherin. Coupled with the recent state of events, she understood why some would have doubts about antagonizing her. The first years on the other hand, were perfectly content to stick together in a rough cluster around her. She was their 'senior' and if nothing else, her mere presence alone would avert the minor hazing all first years suffered at the hands of the older Slytherins. Without a doubt, no matter their age, they really were self-preserving little snakes.

Djemn turned her attention to the book she had in her hands. It was the standard potions text for second years. While some would be in disbelief that she had the mood to study in all the ruckus, she had not forgotten the fact that exams were next week, even if it was looking all too likely that tonight was going to change that.

She could feel eyes on her. She knew that quite a number of students were wondering if she had anything to do with this. And while she would have liked very much to immediately disappear to the Chamber of Secrets, she couldn't. Not yet. She had to establish an alibi first.

The common room entrance opened and Professor Snape swept inside with an ominous swish of robes. Silence fell on the gathered students so quickly, it was as though someone had cast a massive _silencio_ spell. Eager eyes stuck to the potions master's figure as he surveyed the room with a critical gaze wordlessly. It wasn't until his eyes alighted on her that he finally spoke.

"The monster has taken a student into the Chamber of Secrets. The decision has been made to send all students home. The Hogwarts Express will arrive tomorrow morning."

The professor's deep voice was a monotone which echoed across the stone room like the declaration of doomsday. Immediately questions began being hurled in every direction. The noise level, after that short span of silence, was nearly unbearable. Within seconds, a loud explosion rocked the common room. When the last of the dust particles have settled, the students meekly turned their eyes to their livid head of house and his smoking wand.

"Silence!" he hissed dangerously. "You're not bumbling idiots and were certainly taught better than to panic like this. You are Slytherins; Act it!"

Some of the younger years shifted uncomfortably at the reprimand until one hand shot up in the air.

"Yes, ?"

The dark haired sixth year looked confident as he asked his question. "Sir, this is not the first time the monster's taken someone. Why was it decided to send off the students?"

Djemn was aware that all the people in the room were making a very conscious effort to _not_ look in her direction as the boy finished his question.

The potions master was silent for a moment, his lips pursing. "Because it is apparent that the student will not survive this time." Seeing more confused looks and practically hearing the question already, the man grudgingly continued. "The Heir of Slytherin left a message beneath the first one. _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever._"

The silent gasps might as well be a soprano scream through the room as recoil snapped through the ranks of Slytherin students. If their head of house was anything, he was an honest man when it came to their safety. And while sometimes he refused to answer, he had never lied to their questions before no matter how absurd the situation was. If what he said was true then……

"Sir, may we know… who it is?" asked a third year quietly.

The dour man stared hard at the third year till the boy twitched nervously before answering curtly. "Ginny Weasley."

The looks being sent between friends and housemates could make up whole conversations as the students exchanged their opinions on the identity of the latest victim. Djemn herself had to try very hard to keep her face straight and her eyebrows from rising when she'd heard.

'_Ginny Weasley!?'_

It didn't make much if any sense. All things pointed to Ginny being an ally of the Heir. Painting the words, strangling the chickens, following Djemn. Why would the Heir victimize the Gryffindor after all the things she'd done? Did they have a spat? Or was this whole kidnapping a hoax? A part of the Heir's ultimate plan?

Dammit, she needed to get down there!

The rest of the Slytherins were not so upset. The Weasleys have long been known as blood traitors amongst the purebloods and few if any were distressed by the youngest redhead's predicament. In fact, some were even whispering that they thought it to be predictable. After all, blood traitors were almost as bad as mudbloods in their eyes.

"Prefects, do a head count and make sure everyone's accounted for. The other teachers are searching the school for any 'strays' that may be found." At this, the potions master's lip curled slightly. "I will return later tonight. _No one_ had better leave this dormitory." And Djemn didn't know if it was her imagination that the man's eyes flicked over to her for a fraction of a second.

With that, the head of house left, the stone wall closing behind him with a dull thud. Conversations erupted like magical mushrooms all over the common room. Even the upper years abandoned all pretenses to exchange theories with their younger counterparts.

Djemn turned back to her book. She had far more pressing matters to think about than mere school children speculation. But there was nothing she could do about it right now without an alibi. Well, that would be easy enough to solve……

Gabriel Pheneas was leaning casually against the side of her armchair, talking with his friends. It had been all too simple to strike up a conversation with him and the first years. They were only so eager to talk to her. Djemn carefully timed herself, dividing her attention between her housemates and the passage of time. Once she was certain that more than half an hour has passed, she offhandedly made a comment about retiring to her room, citing a dislike for crowded places, which was the truth. Gabriel and his friends bid her a cordial goodnight and watched as she made her way to the females' dormitories. Unknowingly, they had just given her a solid alibi.

Djemn walked swiftly to her room and closed the door soundly behind her. Double checking her security and certain that it was as perfect as it would get, she raised her left hand and lightly touched the ring on her middle finger. The emerald being held in place by the dual snake heads glinted back at her almost deviously, as though knowing exactly what her intensions were.

Pressing a finger to the jewel, Djemn intoned softly. "Vādere."

And disappeared from the room without a sound.

**DH DH DH DH DH DH DH**

Djemn calmly found herself on her feet inside the secret room. By now, she was used to this method of travel. The Chamber Ring she was wearing enabled her to move from one location in Hogwarts to the secret room in an apparition like fashion, minus the horrible audio. Saying a different incantation would bring her back to where she'd come from. In her opinion, it was an extremely convenient object. Merlin bless Salazar and his genius.

Without sparing another glance at her surroundings, Djemn walked out of the room and into the long, dark tunnel beyond it. Before her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, she nearly tripped over a sleeping Jormungand. It seemed that the giant serpent was asleep stretched over the entire tunnel. Yeah, that little knowledge was good news at least. It meant that whatever the Heir had planned, it probably hadn't happened yet. Carefully maneuvering herself beside the big snake, Djemn slowly made her way towards the mouth of the tunnel, a dim _lumos_ at the tip of her wand. The pure darkness indicated that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was closed and that played in her favour. She didn't intend to go rushing into the Heir without some sort of groundwork beforehand.

When she finally came to the end of the tunnel, the stone barricade before her, Djemn spent a few moments preparing. Then she canceled her _lumos_ and set to start her next spell. Its effects were similar to that of a one-way-mirror found in interrogation rooms. She'd be able to see past the barricade but not the other way around.

With a last flourish of her wand, the stone slab in front of her shimmered violently for a moment before fading away entirely, revealing the central chamber and all its towering pillars. Sparse light from the torches within illuminated two people.

Or were they?

Djemn scrutinized the two figures intently. She could easily recognize Ginny Weasley sprawled unmoving upon the wet, freezing floor. The young girl's pallor was unnatural and she could very well be inches from death with her shallow breathing. But Djemn could see no apparent injury on her. Magic? She turned her attention to the other occupant.

The boy stood tall with black hair but that was all Djemn could really discern from him. And not for lack of trying either. It was as though he was a badly formed hologram. His silhouette was blurred and his features fuzzy. She would guess, from his stature, that he was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. A Hogwarts student. And he was probably not human.

Djemn thought hard. Was it possible that the Heir was simply a ghost? Her eyes flicked to Ginny. Possession? Was that how he had used Ginny to carry out his actions for him? It was not impossible. And it explained why no one had ever seen the Heir.

Djemn wanted to scoff. And all this while she'd thought the Heir was a person! Hogwarts had been completely terrorized and plagued by a simple, vengeful specter? It seemed like an unflattering answer to the wicked mystery which had so many people looking over their backs in fear for months. If only they knew. The Heir of Slytherin was a ghost! The world of magic was just freakin' unbelievable!

But disbelief aside, Djemn knew that this was no ordinary spirit. He wouldn't have been able to do half the things he'd done otherwise. But what was his purpose? He wasn't even alive, what would he gain from all of this?

Djemn watched as the blurry figure of the boy walked around the still body of Ginny Weasley. At one point, he pulled back a foot and attempted to kick her shoulder. But his foot went right through her.

Djemn smiled. He was incorporeal.

She debated her options. Watching was good and all but at this rate, she would not get any answers. She already knew as much as she could from her observations. And the boy was intangible; what could _he_ do to her? Besides, she had all the leverage she needed. She had initially planned for the Heir to be a living being, fully capable of retaliating, but this made things even simpler.

She'd covered all angles. There was absolutely nothing to fear from him.

Stepping back a few paces, Djemn canceled the viewing spell and cast a minor protection charm over herself, just in case. Then, slipping her wand back into her sleeve, she mentally prepared herself.

It was time for her to meet the Heir of Slytherin. Face to face, one to one, person to… well, spirit.

"_**Open."**_

**Author's Note:** This is a sneak tactic. If you want more, review. Yea… it's been one year, one month and one day. A good time to update, eh? Who am I kidding… I've been procrastinating like the biggest procrastinator alive. I promise the next one won't take as long though. I mean, this are the good parts, yea? That said, I really need to leave a note of gratitude here for dear Jedsmy. Without this reader's persistence, this chapter probably wouldn't be up as soon as it is (the horror!). I also want to thank all those who'd reviewed and those who'd stuck with me, waiting for this piece of crap to come out. Writing this chapter, I've had to do a lot of rereading on the past chapters and it just struck me how far I've come, with you all right there with me. You guys are the best!

Happy World Book Day, everyone! Please, PLEASE review!


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